The Catalyst
by Miss Trouillefou
Summary: 1. A substance that increases the rate of a chemical reaction without itself undergoing any change. 2. Somebody or something that makes a change or brings about an event. Shizaya. Language and sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

**Author ramblings/groveling: What's this? A story? How delightful! **

**Okay, I just want to get this out of the way before people start getting torches and pitchforks and chasing me throughout the village: I know stories that contain original characters are a major turn off for most people because most people think OC=marysue. I understand because I too have been innocently strolling around fanfiction and have gotten attacked by that accursed beast. They're frightening. I got scared and ran away.**

**BUT! I am here to tell you that you will hopefully not have that problem here! YOU WILL GET YOUR HOMO! BE PATIENT! ALL GOOD THINGS COME WITH TIME! (Actually, not much time but you get what I mean). Don't let the OC scare you away. It would make me sad.**

**Seriously. I will cry. And it will be your fault and you will never get your eventual homo and porn because I can't write through a gigantic waterfall of tears. **

**Jk. Just read. **

XXX

I don't have a _type_. I love all humans. Except for Shizuo. I think he's a eunuch (not seriously obviously, I just like to insult him). I should tell him that. I'll probably get a hotdog stand thrown at me, but the satisfaction of knowing that I made the blood in his veins boil from unadulterated rage would make it all worth it. He's the most annoyingly fascinating person I have had the absolute hateful pleasure of purposely running into on accident.

Our entire relationship doesn't make sense from a typical human standpoint. You know the saying "love at first sight" that is so overused in sparkling vampire novels and Disney movies? It's like that, except with hate. I had no legitimate reason for hating him when I met him. Tall, blonde, attractive, obviously respected—the qualities dozens of other people I know possessed—and I just hated him. I saw the then teenager and my heartbeat quickened, and negative human passion consumed me. I hated Shizuo Heiwajima, right then and there.

I know he's not a bad guy when he's not provoked. Since the sight of my handsome face seems to turn him into something like a savage monster, I don't get the privilege of being in the presence of "nice Shizuo." Shinra says he isn't bad, Celty says he isn't bad, Simon says he isn't bad; but to me, he might as well be Lucifer himself. Either that or I'm Lucifer and he's God. Actually, I don't like thinking of him as God. Gives him too much power over me. Maybe he's like Osiris and I'm Set. Set tricks him, Set plays him, Set cuts him into fourteen pieces and scatters them. They find every part except his penis which, as I said earlier, supports my idea that he is a eunuch. But no matter what I do to Shizuo, he always has some power in him. Not to say I lack strength; physically I am weak compared to him, but my mind is sharper and quicker. Yet he has always seemed to have something I lacked.

Maybe it was the fact that he always seemed to have people there for him that gave him such strength. He had friends no matter what he did. He had people he could trust and who trusted him in return. But I don't have that because I don't need it. I am above relying on others for strength. I have my own.

Shinra said that Shizuo's desire to see me dead, squashed like a bug on the pavement, isn't just because of a personal vendetta. Not just because he hates me for what I've done to him, but what I've done to others. How sweet it is to see Shizuo care so much for humans! He wants to kill me to protect them! Little does he know, I haven't killed anybody. I simply brought their weakness to the surface, had those weaknesses strangle them, and watched helpless victims struggle as their own faults became their downfall. It's fascinating.

His Achilles heel is his temper. That I know. But it is not the same as a crippling weakness that brings him to his knees. Every hit he takes is like a human fist against the Great Wall. Maybe a brick might move a tiny bit; maybe after hundreds of blows in just the right spot a portion might crumble. But there are still hundreds of miles to go and the abuser has a broken and bleeding hand. It's overall ineffective.

He doesn't let me get close enough to him to figure out all the wires and cables that make up his mental circuit. Despite his overall…simplicity, he is an oddly complicated creature. It is difficult, for me at least, to determine what makes him tick. The mere sight of me throws him into a fit of rage, so I do not get to see the other parts of his personality. Parts of his personality that I cannot access but that would allow me to manipulate him to my liking. And I am not about to stalk him to find out information. Sure, I could wire his house with cameras or something similar but that would be too much effort and I'm not that desperate to find out. Besides, trying to decode him is a hobby of sorts for me. However, if I could figure him out, he would be mine. He'd have more strings on him than Pinocchio with me as the puppet master. He would do whatever I wanted him to because once his emotions were in my skilled hands, he would be at mercy of my whims. But I reiterate, the only emotion I've seen from him is anger, which proves to be of little use to me.

I hailed a bald bartender, who reminded me of Mr. Clean, and ordered a tequila based cocktail. I needed to get a little drunk. Maybe it would help me to not obsess over that man that I abhor. He could not get the better of me like that. The bartender returned with my drink and nodded towards a woman a few seats away from mine.

"Lady over there says it's on her," he slid the red drink towards me and I caught the cool glass before it traveled off the edge of the counter and onto my expensive black slacks. I thanked him and figured I should acknowledge the 'lady' who had paid for me. It was a nice gesture, I guess.

She was a brunette with a pixie cut wearing tight leather pants and a loose white shirt that barely hung off a boney shoulder, revealing the thick black straps of a tank top. The snakebite piercings on her lower lip moved ever so slightly when she smiled, beckoning me to her.

Well, getting laid would be a wonderful distraction. What had it been now…six weeks since I'd gotten some action? Not because I'm not attractive (I'm the most attractive person I know) or that I didn't get any offers. I got plenty but, I had turned them all down. I had been too busy with my own problems to factor a woman into the list. Concerning my libido, I could take matters into my own hands (pun intended).

Judging by the way this woman had been eyeing me, she wasn't looking for a relationship. She wanted sex, and that was more than fine by me. I took my drink and approached her with a practiced smile on my lips. "Thanks for the drink. The name's Izaya," I leaned against the bar and nodded to her.

"Sasha," she had a distinguishable accent.

"Nice to meet you. Not from around here, are you?" It had been obvious that she was a foreigner from the fact that she was Caucasian, but the second she said her name implied that she had to be a recent immigrant from an English speaking country. I wondered if she understood what I was saying, or if she was just picking up bits and pieces.

She shook her head and was quiet for a moment. "I got here two weeks ago from Australia," she answered in Japanese.

"Really? Are you here on business or pleasure?" I asked. I wondered how long she would be willing to keep up a conversation in Japanese. It seemed to be proving to be a challenge for her, as she had had to think a few seconds before replying to my first two comments.

The woman took a sip of her drink and smiled sheepishly, "My Japanese is bad. I don't understand. Can you repeat it?"

"How about in English?" That hadn't taken long at all. "My name's Izaya, in case you didn't catch it the first time. What brings you to Ikebukuro?"

"Hallelujah! Someone speaks English! You have no idea how happy that makes me." She set her drink on the bar with a clank. "I'm here doing some work, but I'm taking the night off. Worked my ass off these past two weeks and all I want to do is have some fun.

"I guess we're both doing the same thing," I stepped closer to her, placing my hand her knee and gauging her reaction. I wasn't stepping out of my boundaries. This woman was definitely looking for sex. Oh, this was just so easy. "I bet we can have more fun outside this little bar."

Thin arms draped over my shoulders and she tilted her head, her multiple earrings glinting in the dim light. Her warm breath caressed my ear and she whispered, "Let's cut to the chase. Your place or mine?"

Eager one. Not that I minded. No seduction or any of that fake bullshit to get into her pants. "You don't waste time, do you?" I mimicked her tone and I felt her lips on my earlobe, tugging lightly.

"Why should I," it was a rhetorical question. "My hotel is about a fifteen minute walk from here."

"Mine's about three."

XXX

The cars rumbled past in the late night Tokyo traffic, but they weren't as loud as the music had been in the bar. I stuffed my hands in my pockets even though it wasn't that cold. It was actually pleasant, a comfortable seventy something degrees, although that just meant the weather in the morning was going to be brutally hot.

The woman kept her hand on the open zipper of her tiny purse that seemed just big enough to fit a few essentials. Wallet, cell phone, lady products, maybe some makeup. She didn't try to make much conversation after she asked me a few reasonable questions. How old was I, did I have STDs or other diseases, stuff like that. I learned that she was twenty-four and in perfect health, which was good. She was also much taller than me, almost Shizuo's height, which was a bit of a turn off. I hated that Shizuo had the advantage height to intimidate people and insult me. What am I supposed to say when he calls me pipsqueak or flea? I am like a tiny bug to him. That's why he tries to squish me with vending machines and mailboxes. Newspapers and slippers wouldn't have much effect against me. That was sarcasm in case it wasn't obvious. Though I wouldn't put it past Shizuo to attack me with a rolled up newspaper; he was not the brightest bulb in the circuit.

Why does Shizuo try to hit me from a distance instead of taking the stealth approach? If he tried to sneak up on me, he could hit me more often; but due to the distance he puts between us I have plenty of time to see the airborne object, dodge, and counter. He'd have greater accuracy if he tried to get a little closer before his passion to murder me overtook him. He obviously isn't very intelligent, but he made up for it in strength. He's brawn and I'm brains. If we didn't hate each other so much we would make a good team.

Just as I was entertaining the notion of what I could accomplish by working with Shizuo, a lamp post whizzed past my ear, narrowly missing me. If the woman hadn't noticed and dodged, she would have had a rather large piecing to add to her collection of eighteen (from what I could see). I turned to see the tall blonde man stomping a cigarette into the concrete. His furrowed brows contradicted the smile he wore on his face.

"See you've found a friend, Izaya," he said and cracked his knuckles. Other citizens on the street had backed away into alleys, into stores, or run clear across the street, knowing our routine all too well, "Too bad she gets to see me crush you into a million pieces."

I glanced at the woman for a second to see whether or not she was understanding what he was saying at all. She wasn't. Her hand was in her purse but she did not look away from the blonde man. I shrugged nonchalantly, "You can't 'crush' something into 'a million pieces,' Shizzy. 'Crush' implies crumpling or squishing. The word you mean to use is 'smash.'"

He glared at me. See? He was stupid. "I'm going to kill your sorry ass."

"You're just jealous because I have a woman with me and you don't. You couldn't if you tried. Now if you'll excuse me, Shizzy, I have better things to attend to at the moment than your childish games," I backed up, hooking my arm around the woman's waist to tug her back with me.

He took a few steps forward, ripping a bus stop sign out of the sidewalk as he approached. "I don't have any interest in women. I just want to kick your ass." He tapped the metal pole against his palm like a grouchy teacher would smack a ruler when lecturing the class.

"You fucking stand down you motherfucking psycho!" The woman took a compact pistol from her purse and pointed it directly at Shizuo's shoulder. No intention of murder, just a threat. The action took me be surprise to be honest. From my experiences and observations, pulling out a gun is not the first thing a person does when encountering a person like Shizuo. Most cower. Or run. Not point a gun. Ha! I made a rhyme.

Shizuo paused, his brows rising at the weapon and her sudden outburst. The woman stood confidently with the gun pointed at him. He stared back evenly with the sign in hand. There was a long and tense silence as they tried to stare each other down.

He sneered, "I've been shot before. I'm still here." He continued to advance upon us in a way that reminded me of Michael Meyers, slowly but relentlessly following his victims.

"Hey, hey," I said, stepping in front of the woman and gesturing for her to calm down. "It's just Shizuo. He's nothing to worry about; it happens all the time. Let's just get going." Although it have been be wonderful to see Shizuo dead I didn't necessarily want to see him go in that fashion. He had some suffering to do.

"Fine." She let her hand fall to her side but refused to stop watching the man.

I held my hands up in the universal symbol of harmless intent. "Okay Shizzy, it's been nice seeing you, but we're going to get going."

"I'm not finished with you yet, flea!" he growled, and adjusted the sign onto his shoulder.

There's the 'flea' comment. I hate that. The only reason he gets to call me that is because I'm short. I should start calling him something like 'ogre' or 'Hulk.' Maybe 'Yao Ming,' but I don't think Shizuo watches enough basketball to understand the reference.

The woman took aim at Shizuo again and before I could protest, fired the gun. Shizuo dropped the sign and crumpled to the ground.

I stared with wide eyes at the scene, shocked that the woman had actually used the weapon. Oh, he couldn't die. Not yet. I couldn't see where the bullet hit him. I blinked a few times and realized that this was none of my concern. I hated Shizuo. "Poor Shizu-chan, can't fight a girl," I teased half-heartedly.

The woman put the pistol back into her purse, grabbed my arm, and pulled me away from the scene, muttering something about not wanting to get caught by the police. People were gathering around Shizuo. They offered to help but he refused. He steadied himself on a shop window and forced himself to his feet, his gaze downcast at his bleeding knee. So that explained his sudden fall. He could put weight on it so it was just a flesh wound. He was just fine. The people around him approached him with concern faces which the desire to give him aid and he yelled at them to leave him be. No one would do that for me…

I decided to stop thinking about it. Shizuo was fine. He'd be sore for a few days, but otherwise fine. "That was a good shot," I said when we turned into my apartment building.

"Sorry about that," she said without meaning it, "The guy scared the shit out of me. If you don't want to—"

"I want to. Trust me," I said. We stepped into the elevator and I pressed the button for the top floor, my apartment, and asked her a few more questions. She assured me that she was a good shot and that she had had no intention of seriously injuring Shizuo, just stopping his assault. Egotistically, she claimed that she hardly missed a shot. Shizuo just had a cut just below his knee on the inner part of his leg.

I pulled my keys out of my back pocket and flipped through them. "Don't feel bad. I hate Shizuo. If anything, you did me a favor. He won't be able to chase me down the street or through a grocery store for a few days."

"You hate him?" she asked, as if she was unsure of the legitimacy of my statement.

"He's a protozoan," I opened the door and let her in, closing it behind us.

"Isn't that a cell thing?" Absolutely brilliant one I'd snagged there. That was sarcasm, again. There really needs to be a specific font for that. She took a few steps and glanced around my apartment with an approving smile. "Nice place you got here," she said, "Where's the bathroom? I want to freshen up a bit."

I nodded towards the hallway, "First door on the right." She went to the bathroom and closed the door behind her. I quickly went to my computer and jiggled the mouse to wake it up. I had to look up more information on this person before I did anything. Most likely, there wasn't anything to be concerned about; but one can never judge a person in such a short amount of time. Hey, look at Mikado. Who would have thought the kid had started a gang?

I typed the name 'Sasha Arrington' into an online database and hundreds of results appeared. Apparently it wasn't that uncommon of a name. I narrowed it down to Australia, where she and her accent said she was from, and searched for women from ages nineteen to thirty. God knows how women lie about their age. I got three results and quickly found the one I was looking for.

According to the online records, she was a year older than me. Daughter of Robert Arrington and Kate Ivanov. That didn't matter. Attended a community college majoring in Russian language, but dropped out after a year. Arrested for theft and prostitution, but was released because someone paid bail for her. Accused of co-conspiracy in murder, but there hadn't been enough valid evidence to confirm her guilt. Authorities believe she is involved with a Victoria-based gang known as The Ends due to her associations with other gang members and the double eyebrow piercing. Probably a gang sign, like how the Yellow Scarves wore, well, yellow scarves. Body modification was a bit more extreme, however. Gang members would presumably be extremely loyal to the group. Her health record held nothing of interest.

I went back to Google and typed in her name to see if she had a MySpace or Facebook, but before I could get anywhere with the search, the woman emerged from the bathroom, wearing nothing but tight white panties and the black tank top. I closed out the window and shut down the computer. "Do I have to come get you?" she purred with seductive brown eyes.

I gave a stupid smile and I folded my hands behind my head. "Office chair sex in front of a nice big window might be fun."

She approached me with a sly grin on her lips and I turned the chair towards her, allowing her to easily climb onto my lap. Her sharp knees pressed against my slender hips and her cool hands cupped my face and brought my lips to hers. The taste of sweet liquor was still on her nude lips and the metallic studs tickled my chin. I leaned back comfortably in my chair, pulling the woman closer to me.

Without getting into specifics, we had sex twice that night. Once in the chair, and the second time in my bed. A bit of my masculinity had been sacrificed—she never seemed to let me take control, making sure I was the one pinned on my back underneath her or with my hands tied to the bed post with my belt. It was still pleasurable, don't get me wrong. If anything it was less work for me.

I never really understood why people make such a big deal about sex. To me, it was a means of sedating those annoying male hormones that demand we breed. To others, it was a form of intimacy. I have watched those romance movies and read those silly novels talking about the great power of love and I thought 'What idiots!' People did stupid and embarrassing things to try to please the person they loved, and often time things just didn't work out. That's another thing that puts me above other human beings. I never gamble with my own emotions, they are locked away in a safe that I only open when in complete and utter solitude. I play with the emotions of others, twisting them and manipulating them until they completely take over a person. Then I stand back and watch the fruits of my labor, the beauty of human suffering and triumph. Then…nothing. It's over. It gives me the same gratification as doing the dishes or laundry.

The woman was asleep next to me, curled up on her side with the blankets pulled over her shoulders. I tried to get some sleep as well, but after an hour I gave up and went back to my computer. I rolled the chair back up to the desk. Maybe some people would still be in the chat rooms at midnight. It wouldn't be surprising.

I stared out the window at the lights of Tokyo, the neon city that never seems to sleep. There wasn't much to be heard except the distant murmur of cars on the street stories below and the low roar of an overhead plane. Most people were asleep in their beds, and the younger crowds were out partying or picking up someone for the night like I had. I could see the silhouette of two people in the apartment window across the street, the man bending over to plant a kiss a woman's forehead before turning off the light. I turned back to my computer to see that it had finished starting up and logged into the Dollars chatroom, recognizing both Celty's and Mikado's screen names.

_Setton: He seemed okay when I dropped him off. The bullet only grazed his knee. It didn't hit any bone, thank God! He's so upset. _

Oh, brilliant. They already know about Shizuo.

_Tanaka: So the doctor said he'd be fine?_

_Setton: I had to force him to go but yes. It should heal in a few days. _

_Tanaka: And are you sure it wasn't Izaya who shot him?_

Why the hell would they think I did it? They know that I didn't use guns. My switchblade was plenty effective, thank you very much. I requested a private chat with Mikado to affirm my innocence, which he accepted.

_Kanra: I didn't shoot him. _

I signed out of the private chat before he could reply. Mikado was not my favorite person to talk to. No offense to him.

_Setton: From the people I talked to, no. He seemed just as surprised as anyone else. It was some woman that he was with._

_Tanaka: Do we know who? _

_Setton: I don't know. It was a foreigner. Apparently Shizuo is going out looking for her in the morning. I don't know what he's going to do so I'm going with him to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. _

_Tanaka: Should we be worried? _

I decided to join into their conversation since Mikado was probably waiting for me anyways, and there was no longer a point in observing.

_Kanra: My, my, everyone has their panties in a twist over a flesh wound. Have we forgotten that this is the toughest man in Ikebukuro? He'll be fine._

_Setton: …_

A small box popped up on the screen from Celty, asking if I would join a private chat with her. She figured out my screen name a while ago because I said something carelessly online. I forget what it was, but she was apparently the only one who had picked up on it. I shrugged and accepted the request, figuring that she was just going to interrogate me about what happened and not believe me because everyone thinks I'm a pathological liar.

_Setton: What happened, Izaya?_

_Kanra: I thought you asked people about this already! Oh, you're so forgetful without that head of yours. Tsk tsk._

_Setton: Don't get off topic!_

_Kanra: Relax. The woman thought Shizuo was going to kill us and she defended herself. _

_Setton: You're not understanding the severity of this situation._

_Kanra: I guess I'm not. I don't see what the big deal is. It's not like violence is new to this city. _

_Setton: …_

_Setton: Why can't you two just get along?_

Because he's hell-bent on killing me, that's why. Then again, I think I started it. But that's a very elementary excuse. Why can't he be the grown up and just glare at me instead of insisting upon chucking the nearest heavy metal object at my face? Confusing man. Confusing, confusing man.

_Kanra: That is a lovely notion, but unfortunately impossible. Sorry_ (^o^)

_Setton: There has to be something that will get you two to stop fighting! If this continues, one of you is going to end up dead, and it'll probably be you…_

_Kanra: I don't think Shizuo has the heart to actually kill me. _

_Setton: Then you don't know anything about him. Izaya. Listen to me. You two need to make peace. This nonsense has gone on long enough. Ten years, is it? _

_Kanra: Awww do you care about us? _

_Setton: I'm serious. Shizuo is sick of it._

_Kanra: You're funny._

_Setton: Consider it? Please. I've already talked to Shizuo about this. You need to make the first move. He's not budging._

This discussion wasn't going anywhere soon. I could try all I want to have a civil conversation with Shizuo, but he would be poised to attack me as soon as I was in eyesight. The only time I got to talk to him rationally was online where he had no idea who I was, and those were often pleasant. Logically, it proved that our hatred was superficial. If we chatted anonymously, we got along great simply because he didn't know who I was. If I attempted the same conversation in person, I'd have a fist flying at me before I could get a sentence out.

_Kanra: That could be interesting._

_Setton: Just try. Even if you treat it like one of your sick little experiments, just try. Or else I'm not accepting any of your work._

_Kanra: Harsh, Celty. Fine._（・∀・）

_Setton: Thank you._

The headless rider disconnected from the private chat and continued talking to Mikado. I folded my hands behind my head and watched the screen with no intention of joining in the chat again. I felt sick to my stomach and my head was cold, but I didn't know why. I turned off the computer and stood up, turning towards the window again.

There were no stars tonight, just a black sky with the butter yellow glow of the lights from skyscrapers. Celty was probably getting ready to go to bed, lying next to Shinra, who would wrap his arms around her as they slept. Mikado would be looking through chat logs on the Dollar's website instead of doing his math homework. And Shizuo… what would he be doing? I had no idea.

I went back to bed.

XXX

**More author rambling/groveling: Reviews are appreciated :) And if my emoticons in the chat part didn't work… I will be very embarrassed.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author Rambling/Groveling: I'm le tired. As promised, to myself at least, I have a chapter up by Saturday night! Hooray!**

**Ohhh I don't really have much to say. Read the silly story!**

It was rare for me to sleep in so late (I was usually up by six at the latest) but I had woken up around eight. However, I did not have any meetings or anything of dire importance to accomplish so the extra two hours of sleep were appreciated.

After Celty's talk with me I had gone back to bed, but I hadn't closed my eyes. I alternated between staring at the ceiling, the woman, or the back of my pillow when I squashed it on my face out of frustration. Something was off and I didn't quite understand it. Shizuo wanted to make peace with me? Seriously? He had tried to impale me with a lamppost not even four hours prior to the conversation with the headless woman. What about that could possibly be interpreted as 'Hey, let's stop fighting and be friends'? Well, the friend part was definitely pushing it. Actually, the whole thing was entirely out of the realm of possibility.

The idea that Celty might be planning something crossed my mind but, it was quickly disregarded. She was friends with Shizuo and knew things about him that I would probably never know. Plus, she minded her own business. Unless, of course, someone had told her to stick her figurative nose in or she had some sort of personal interest. The former was unlikely as most people knew better than to get between Shizuo and me. People have tried several times to stop our fighting, our friends (mostly his friends because I don't have any really), authority figures from parents to principals to police, total strangers, and even Celty a few years back. All pitifully failed attempts. Even if we came to some sort of agreement I would still get a countless number of perfect opportunities to make his life miserable and he would always have a stoplight or an innocent pedestrian to throw at me.

I remembered at one point the woman woke up. Half-awoke, to be more precise, since her eyes hadn't opened and her breathing was still deep and even. It was one of those moments when one is semi-conscious and only a few seconds from drifting back to sleep. She turned over and blindly felt around for me until she found my arm, traced it to my hand, and laced her long fingers with mine. She hardly opened her lips when she said barely intelligible words that told me to go to sleep. Yeah, I wanted to, but my mind insisted on driving me to the brink of insanity first. That was an exaggeration, but after three hours of unsuccessful attempts at sleep I was a little more than aggravated.

Several of the things Celty had said had confused me because they were contradictory. If Shizuo _did_ in fact have the heart to kill me (God knows he has the physical capacity) then why should I make peace with him? Deep down, I knew that if Shizuo were to die I did not want to be the one to do it. The truth is that I'm fond of the man in a strange way. He entertains me. But Shizuo would kill me? Something about that did not seem right.

The other thing that bothered me was the fact that he wanted peace, but I had to be the one to initiate it. That would be rather difficult to do because _I _couldn't have a rational conversation with the man. If he wanted the fighting to stop so badly then why didn't he stop chucking stuff at me? Or chasing me down? Or growling at me when he talked? Or giving me death threats? Or acting generally like a savage rhinoceros? These contradictions went to support my discarded theory that Celty was planning something; but that idea had its own faults, as I already stated.

When I was sure the woman had fallen back into the unconsciousness of sleep, I slipped my hand away from hers. I turned my back to her and set my head on my arm. The only thing I could do was get more information. Lucky for me, I tend to be good at that. I fell into a light sleep after a while.

The metallic clatter and light taps of drawers that sounded from downstairs were what woke me up. There were only rumpled sheets where the woman had been so I assumed to she was the source of the noise.

I stretched. The undersides of my arms felt tight and sore from the activities of the previous night, but everything else felt fine. I untangled my thin legs from the bed sheets and went across the room to my closet for some clothes. Clothes were always a nice thing, even though the temperature was well above eighty degrees. Why was it so hot in October? Shouldn't the weather have cooled with the oncoming winter months? I put a white v-neck and gray-blue jeans, as I did not own a pair of shorts (Shorts look less than flattering on me. I do not like them no matter how cool they are). My hair parted whichever way it pleased and stuck up in some places. I ran my hands through it a few times until I deemed it acceptable. It was a little greasy from the heat, and sweat. I needed a shower but I wanted to get the woman out of my house first. And get more sleep. The blue-ish hue under my eyes was not very attractive.

I winced at the bright sunlight that greeted me when I opened my bedroom door. It shone from the large window that illuminated most of my apartment and I blinked a few times to adjust. There was a distinguishable aroma of breakfast foods drifting up from the kitchen. On a whim, I opted to slide down the railing next to the stairs instead of using the steps.

Just as I suspected, the woman was making food in the kitchen. Instead of getting completely dressed she had put on her underwear and my shirt from the previous day. It was a little short on her tall frame, showing her wrists and a sliver of skin between her panties and the hem of the shirt.

"Why my shirt?" I asked. I didn't really mind but it was a rude to take (or wear in this case) another person's belongings without their permission.

"Hey, sweetie!" she greeted me cheerily with a quick glance over her shoulder. "And just because it was there." That was about the answer I had been expecting. Fun fact I've learned about women: they actually like men's clothing. Mostly because they say it's more comfortable, which I can understand, judging by what they wear on a daily basis. Maybe all of them secretly want to be crossdressers. After all, the world tends to be dominated by men. Men held a certain power that very few women could possess. Society raises women to be weak and only a fraction of them are able to escape that upbringing. To me, power is one of the most attractive and desirable quality to possess. I could see why they'd want it. Though it still didn't explain why the woman had to wear my shirt when she had been wearing the previous night looked equally comfortable.

She rolled up her sleeves (technically my sleeves because it was _my _shirt) andslid two pancakes off of the frying pan and onto a plate. "Made breakfast for you," she set the dish on the bar and turned around to put the pan in the sink.

"Oh, that's very nice of you," I took a seat at the bar that divided the kitchen from the sitting area and stared at the pancakes, bacon, and eggs on my plate. It had been years since someone had done something like that for me without being asked. Once again, however, she had not bothered to ask permission to do so; but once again, I did not mind. It really was a nice gesture. A little surprising, but nice.

The woman leaned against bar across from me and took a piece of bacon from her own plate. She stared past me, focusing on the window. "So when do you want me to scram? Sooner rather than later, right?"

"That would probably be for the best, I've got things to do today." That was a lie, but she didn't need to know that. Not that I cared if she found out, but she had treated me pretty well for the twelve hours I'd known her. Except she had shot Shizuo and had probably gotten me into a world of trouble with the blonde brute and his headless friend. But I did not want to focus on that at the moment. "Probably sometime before noon. I could drop you off at your hotel if you want."

"Nahh, I'm a big girl. I can show myself out. I have to get back to work anyways. I only have another two weeks here." The woman paused to take a bite of her food.

"What sort of work are you doing?" I asked for information's sake. I felt conversational.

She rolled her eyes as if it was a dull topic. So she did not particularly enjoy her work, apparently. Join the millions of other people who would agree with that sentiment. Not me though. I'm an exception. I love my job almost as much as I love myself (which is quite a lot). "Just need to talk to a bloke out here about some business matters."

"They gave you four weeks to do that?" I said skeptically.

She gave a nervous smile. "Not the easiest bloke to get in contact with. Plus, I have my separate matters to attend to, but you don't want to hear about those. Do you mind if I take a quick shower?"

I wasn't about to force information out of her. It would be useless anyways. A lone member of an Australian gang could not accomplish much in Tokyo. The gangs in Japan were big and dangerous, and a lot more twisted than their Western counterparts. If she was at all intelligent, she would be doing minor business. Which she probably was, but I couldn't know for sure. "Go right ahead."

She ruffled my hair, not caring that it was a little greasy. "Thanks, sweetie." She ran on her toes to the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

The breakfast she made for me looked and smelled appetizing but I didn't really feel like eating. My stomach, inconveniently, was in knots. Maybe it had to do with Celty's foreboding chat, and I was subconsciously nervous about what I had agreed to: an attempt at a peace talk with Shizuo. Or that I was generally confused about the situation.

I ate a little bit to be polite and went back to my computer to check the chat logs on the Dollars' website. There weren't any new developments of much interest; the members were talking about some movies and a little incident with a Yellow Scarves. Apparently there was a scuffle between one of their members and a member of the Dollars, but there hadn't been much damage on either side except for a few bruises. How boring. That's the problem with gangs run by a bunch of kids: they're boring. The Yakuza, however on the other hand—those people know how to be badasses. No lame attempts made by teenage posers who want to appear tougher than they are, rebel against their parents, or just have an insatiable desire to be violent.

Well, I take part of that back. Those young gang members can be fun on occasion. They're dumb as posts and easy to manipulate. Give me ten minutes and I could have the Dollars and Yellow Scarves at each other's throats over something entirely fictional. I did something like that once. I worked them into a tizzy over an issue that didn't exist. I tricked a member of the Dollars into thinking that the Yellow Scarves had some sort of top secret plan to conquer them, who, like a loyal gang member should, alerted the boss. Now, I don't feel like recounting every little detail. No one died, which was a bit of a disappointment because it could have made for some delicious drama, but a few kids were hospitalized, others quit, and there had been a man in a fur suit at some point. I never found out who he was or what he was doing; he was just there. Existing. In a fur suit. In the midst of a gang war.

I scrolled through the chat logs and Shizuo's name had caught my eye. The post was only an hour or so old, saying that they had seen Shizuo on crutches. Crutches? Shizuo? I had personally seen the man get hit by a truck and get to his feet with little to no trouble. I know that he's been stabbed in the legs with pens by Namie's half-witted brother and kept on running. But a gunshot to the knee—one that, according to Celty, didn't even hit the bone—had reduced the great Shizuo Heiwajima to crutches?

Logically speaking, he was still human and was still prone to mortal injuries, though he possessed strength akin to Hercules. Hercules was a good allusion to describe Shizuo: strong, hotheaded, impulsive, and very rarely witty. He would probably impulsively kill his children if he had any. God forbid. I bet killing me would be one of his Twelve Labors. Though I doubt he had as many lovers as the Grecian legend. Hercules was bi; no big surprise there considering how promiscuous other gods and demigods were. Shizuo, on the other hand, was most likely asexual. Sure, I've seen girls hit on him. He's a good looking guy. Handsome, dare I say. But I had never seen him accept a single offer he was given. Guys were rejected too. Not only rejected but thrown through windows or off of bridges. It really depended on the location. It was interesting, to me at least, that he had such a violent reaction against men while women were simply turned away. It occurred to me that he might have been gay, in the closet and not willing or wanting to come out which is why he so vehemently refused men. However the notion was quickly discarded. The mere prospect of Shizuo being gay was laughable because of its impossibility. I actually smiled at the thought.

Despite what a lot of people believe, I don't really enjoy fighting him. I like the rush and the danger, sure, but I am also simply fascinated by complexity of Shizuo Heiwajima. He is a wild card with incredible strength. He has the capacity for so much greatness, and I want to figure out how he will use that power. There are very few people who possessed the same potential as he does.

Now that he was in a weakened state, thanks to that godsend of a madwoman, my power was significantly greater than his. Keeping Celty's request in mind, it would be the opportune time to attempt to make peace with the Neanderthal. Or maybe he'd be more aggressive, like a wounded wolf. I didn't know. I just knew that I was going to at least try. Hey, maybe it would cause him more emotional turmoil if I were to apologize or ask for a nonviolent coexistence than if I were to act as I usually did.

There was a light knock on the door and it pulled me from my thoughts. Great, why did I have to have people come over when I had a woman wandering around? Whoever it was knocked again. "Coming, coming," I called to the impatient person.

Standing on my toes, I peered through the peephole in the door and saw Celty's unmistakable yellow helmet and Shizuo with a crutch under one arm. Speak of the devil. Or think, in this case. My stomach turned uncomfortably. They already knew I was home, and I knew Shizuo was not above ripping the door from its hinges, but I was not quite ready to talk to him. However, it would probably be my best chance.

I took a breath to ease my nerves. "Oh hello Celty, Shizzy, what brings you here?" I asked through the door. My voice was weaker than I intended. Nervous. Why was I nervous? There was no reason for me to be.

Celty tapped at her phone and held it over her shoulder for Shizuo to read aloud. "Open up, flea."

Flea… I was half tempted to respond with something along the lines of 'I don't think you can fit through the door Mr. Hulk' but I restrained myself. That was another thing I had over Shizuo: restraint. "I'm really not in the mood to play with you two this early in the morning. If I wanted to get into a brawl, I would have gone looking for you."

"Just open the damn door," Shizuo snapped. See? No restraint.

I unlocked the door but did not open it, and turned away. "It's unlocked, let yourselves in," I called over my shoulder. I took a seat at the couch to wait for them.

Celty held the door open for Shizuo to be nice and closed it behind him, being careful not to accidently tap his crutch. How pitiful it was that the great Shizuo Heiwajima had been reduced to crutches, and was having a girl holding doors open for him. If he was embarrassed about it, he certainly didn't allow it to show. He gave me a hard stare with his brown eyes and I matched him evenly. He didn't wear his usual bartender outfit, opting for a more casual look with jeans and an oversized gray sweatshirt. Neither of us spoke a word to each other.

It was a shame that such a violent and utterly despicable person would be blessed with such a handsome face. A lot of people would find him more attractive if he kept his expression neutral or even tried a smile once in a while. I realized that I never once saw Shizuo smile. A real smile, I mean, not a menacing I'm-going-to-kill-you smile. Those I saw all the time. They were a little scary.

There was silence and I could hear the faint sound of rushing water from the bathroom. Now wouldn't that be awkward when the woman walked out? Her clothes were in my room now and she hadn't gone back to retrieve them. However, neither of them seemed to take notice of the sound, so I didn't address it.

I gestured to the two seats across from me, "You can sit if you'd like."

Without letting his eyes stray from me, Shizuo followed Celty to the two new arm chairs across from me. He carefully and set his crutches on the floor. "Where's the woman?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because she shot me, idiot."

"You want to see her because she shot you?" Maybe it secretly turned him on.

"Yes."

I leaned on my arm. "So…what are you going to do?"

"None of your business."

"It is my business." My eyes met his in a glare. Mine was meaningless, obviously, but he…he was pissed off. I refrained from smiling at the imbecile.

He scratched his muscular neck, groaning with frustration. "I don't care. Where is she?"

I smiled. "What're you going? Kick her ass? Beat up a girl?" I wagged my finger in mock disapproval, knowing that it would annoy him, "That isn't like you Shizzy."

"Shut it, you pest," he showed his teeth as he said the words.

Celty tapped at her phone and gave him a message to read. He sighed with an 'I know' but continued to try to stare a hole through my skull. Shizuo with laser vision… that would be dangerous. Fortunately, he's not that one guy from X-Men.

It occurred to me that maybe he didn't exactly know what he was going to do once he found the woman. Maybe he hadn't expected to find her so quickly, or at all. No, that wouldn't be right. He wouldn't have come to my apartment, my turf, injured and vulnerable if he didn't have any idea what he was doing. Ulterior motives other than finding the girl? It wasn't likely. "Want her to pay medical expenses?" I offered.

"Shinra took care of it for free," he answered, sounding frustrated. I assumed his injury was keeping him from being violent; it had to be. Otherwise I would have had a table flying at me.

"Then what do you want with her?" The question had to be annoying him at that point. Though I should have cared since I was supposed to be civil and _nice_ to him, I didn't at the time. The temptation to irritate him was irresistible. I had to prod him at least a little bit.

Before he could answer a loud ringing sounded from the bathroom. The woman's phone. Such a plain ringtone. I had expected something quirky from a girl with so many piercings. Don't ask why she had taken her phone into the bathroom; maybe she thought I would snoop through it or something, but she had. The faint sound of rushing water trickled to a stop. Then the ringing stopped.

"Lydia! What's up, lover?" the woman's distinguishable voice chimed, emphasized by the echo-y nature of my bathroom.

"She's here," Shizuo said without any inflection of curiosity or surprise. Just a statement of fact. Shizuo's English couldn't have been that good, but he probably picked up bits and pieces. We went to the same school and English language was a required class. Though I don't think he did so well. I know he destroyed an English room his senior year and almost couldn't graduate because of it, but whether it was because he hated the subject or because a certain handsome, black haired, red-eyed boy in the front row was making wisecracks at his expense, I didn't know.

Celty undoubtedly understood the Australian better than me, being Irish and all. I wondered if her head had an accent. Could it talk? That would be interesting.

I shrugged since there was no use in hiding the fact. "So she is. What are you going to do about it?"

"She's a hooker, isn't she?"

My eyes widened at the ridiculousness of the statement. Me? Izaya Orihara hiring a hooker? Oh that was rich. I reiterate, I'm plenty attractive and can be very good with the ladies if I need to be. Hiring someone would just be a waste of money. Not to mention the huge STD risk. And they're gross. "Shizuo, I can't believe you would think that!" I chuckled, "But I don't need to explain myself to you."

"So she is?" he said with smirk, as if he had caught me in a lie. I could imagine how stupid he would feel when he discovered that he was wrong and I was telling the truth. Then again, he must always feel stupid because he is stupid. He can't help it.

"No, no! Lydia! I'm not sleeping around. I swear I'm being a good girl. I promise Baby-Doll," the woman emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her. The woman noticed Shizuo and Celty and waved at them. She ignored their obvious stares, engrossed in her phone conversation. "You've got to trust me, dear. Okay? I'm not sleeping around. I didn't pick up my phone last night because I went to the grocery and left the phone at the hotel by mistake."

So she was bi. That was to be expected by her promiscuous behavior. Shizuo's brow twitched and Celty put her hand on his arm. Maybe to soothe him. He was trying so hard to repress his anger, it was almost cute. He'd probably explode and demolish a small shop on his way out of my apartment. I could probably get a good view of the event from my window if I cared to watch an innocent family lose their livelihood due to the blonde's anger. That would be unfortunate. Hilarious, but unfortunate.

The woman disappeared into my room and shut the door behind her, still chatting on the phone.

"She pisses me off," Shizuo snarled with his nails digging into the arm of the chair. That was something I found odd about Shizuo. Despite his destructive nature he had morals. He cared about people, their feelings and what not. The fact that the woman had obviously cheated on her lover with _me_ could not have gone over well in his mind. "Not as much as you though," he added suddenly. His eyes bore into mine and I felt my heartbeat quicken.

Boisterous laughter could be heard from my room and the door opened. She leaned in the door way, fully but sloppily dressed, her short hair still dripping. The gun in her hand pointed directly at Shizuo. "Really now? Last time I saw them they were at each other throats." She paused to laugh and listen to what the other person had to say. "You know what they say, 'hate is misguided love' or something along those lines. Well, I'm happy that they sorted things out. Wait, are they together now? Oh that's good. Tell Julie and Markus that I'm happy for them, but I have to go, Sweetie. Love you, kiss the kids for me. Bye." She snapped her phone shut and put in her back pocket.

"Girlfriend?" I asked.

She kept her gun aimed at Shizuo's good knee and he didn't move. He was stupid, but still smart enough to recognize that the woman had the upper hand in the situation. "Something like that." She approached the couch and stood behind me with the gun poised.

Celty stood up defensively.

"If you're here to settle a score Blondie, you'll have to catch me another time. I'm done here," the woman said. When she realized that Shizuo was not about to respond, she put her gun in her purse. Odd, the only reason he had come to my house had been to find her. I thought that maybe he would have had some reaction. She bent over me and kissed the top of my head, "Thanks for last night, Izaya; here's my number in case you need it." The woman dropped a piece of paper into my lap and showed herself out. The door clicked shut behind her.

Shizuo reached over the side of the chair with his long arms and took hold of his crutch. He hesitated, which was also odd because I knew he didn't want to be around me any longer than he had to. He looked to me and set the crutch down, leaning back in his seat. "Follow her. I need to talk to the flea," he told Celty.

The Dullahan shook her head and tapped at her phone. The face of her helmet turned towards me as if she thought I was going to do something horrible any second, like light a kitten on fire or start rambling about the Fundamental Theorem of Calculus. I wasn't mean enough under any circumstances to do the latter.

"I'm not going to start a fight."

Ha! Bullshit. He was just waiting for Celty to leave the room to he could hurl my nice glass table at my face and fuck up my board game. Speaking of which, I had to move some tiles. I took hold of a chess piece and replaced it two spaces away from its original spot. Just as I was going to move the queen, a shadowy black substance wrapped around and hands, brought them together, and solidified.

"Celty…" I said, watching helplessly as the same substance encased my feet. Great, I was more vulnerable than Shizuo. Not only was I significantly immobilized, but I didn't have my knife on me. It was tucked away safely in my dresser drawer. A lot of good that did me.

Celty nodded to me and Shizuo, who I noticed was also subjected to the same black restraints, and took off to follow the woman. Why the hell had I have a one night stand with a weird chick? My heart beat uncomfortably and it was difficult for me to swallow. I was alone with Shizuo.

It occurred to me that this was my chance. I would calmly listen to what Shizuo had to say. I would not try to piss him off. I would try to make peace with the brute. Celty was right… our fighting had gone on for far too long.

The room was silent except for the creaks that came from the building and the whirr of cars. I could almost hear the blonde man's unsteady breaths. It might have been my imagination. Blood pounded in my ears until I got that really annoying ringing sound that droned on for about a minute. I needed to break the silence.

Be nice, I told myself. "How's your knee?" I asked. It was a sincere question. I had been curious since I saw him fall; crumpling like a strong, stone building with a single, precise blow.

He sighed, "Shut. Up. Izaya."

That was to be expected. Judging by his furrowed brows and the frown plastered on his face, he didn't trust my intentions. I didn't blame him. There were plenty of reasons why he of all people shouldn't trust me after all I've done to him. I breathed in deeply in an attempt to calm the blood that quickened in my veins. I was just as much at fault as he was for the state of the relationship, if it could be called that. Animosity would have been a better word.

"If it makes you feel more comfortable, I wasn't asking because I was concerned. Just out of curiosity," I hadn't phrased that as well as I could have. It wasn't like I planned to take advantage of his weakened state. Well, I did, but not in a malicious way like he thought. Dammit, why was it so difficult to talk to him?

His upper lip curled aggressively, "Shut up. Just shut up and listen. I hate you. I've had enough of your shit and after this I want you out of my life forever."

I kept my expression neutral despite the sudden and strange sensation in my chest. Good. Shizuo out of my life forever sounded good. Didn't it? "That's a lovely notion Shizuo but I live here. Our paths are bound to cross and you're bound to through the nearest heavy object at my face. You start conflict; I'm the one who tries to avoid it." I laced my fingers together, since that was all I could do with my hands in their bounded state. "But we've been over this. You want me dead and I want you dead, yet both of us are refusing to die—"

"I don't want you dead, Izaya. Judging by the way your face looked last night, you don't want me dead either." So he had noticed. Had to say, I was impressed. I hadn't expected him to be the type who could read people. Maybe he did have two brain cells that touched. "I'm sick of this. You need to leave me alone. If you see me in the streets, mind your own business and I'll mind mine. Fair enough?"

I stared at him. Was Shizuo trying to mess with _me_? He was too calm, it seemed; but everything about his posture and his eyes told me he was being sincere. His brown eyes never left mine and his hands were mimicking my own. Actually, his entire posture was matched mine. That was a little creepy. I read somewhere that when people are attracted to each other they subconsciously tended to copy one another's body movements. I couldn't remember who had been sitting like that first, so I quickly moved my hands to the left, just to be different and see if he followed me. There was also a possibility that I was being paranoid. "Do you honestly think this decade long feud will be over depending on whether or not we come to an agreement here? It's silly, really."

He sighed. "I talked to Celty and I realized—"

"As did I."

"Shut up. I'm talking," he said through gritted teeth. His hands moved slightly to the left. He was copying me! I furrowed my brow. "I want to try. And that's all I have to say."

"Fine," I said, moving my hands back into my lap. "I'll leave you alone if you leave me alone. But it's not going to work. It's not going to end just like that. I will still want to blame you for stuff and watch you squirm and you will still have an uncontrollable desire to hit me with vending machines."

Shizuo remained silent and turned his face towards the window. There was a flock of geese, which was strange for autumn. "You have a nice view," he commented.

"I'm not done—"

"How long did it take you to get this apartment?" he blatantly ignored me.

Red eyes blinked twice. He was just passing time until Celty returned. I supposed I might as well try to do the same. "I got lucky with this one, actually. The family that lived here before was growing and they wanted to move to a nicer neighborhood. I was the first bidder and they took my offer. So maybe a week?"

He nodded. "Makes sense."

The door to my apartment opened again, ending the awkward and forced conversation. Celty stood in the doorway and paused, surprised that we were both still intact. The black substance around my wrists and ankles dissipated and I rubbed my freed limbs. Shizuo did the same.

Quiet feet approached and the Irish woman held her phone out for Shizuo and me to see. "_I caught her and took her gun and her phone. She's waiting outside for us. We need to get going. Did you get everything sorted out?_"

Shizuo grabbed his crutch and pushed himself to his feet with the support of his strong arms. "Everything should be. Goodbye, Izaya," he nodded to me and started out.

Words got caught in my throat and they left. I sat, staring at the spot were Shizuo had been. I realized that I never got to call him a eunuch. That was an unfortunate missed opportunity. If I wanted to abide by this 'deal' as he called it, I would never have the chance to again.

**Author's rambling/groveling: The OC is gone! It's not a trap. Seriously, put down the pitchforks the homo starts soon-ish. Or maybe it has already started and you just can't tell –twilight zone theme plays- I hope the OC was not too horrible to suffer through but I have a valid reason for her existence! Just you wait you beautiful fanfic readers~ **


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors Rambling/groveling: Whooo this is a long one! 14 pages on my computer but I'm pretty fond of this chapter despite how one of the people who I bounce ideas off of pretty much told me half of it was retarded. Oh well XD **

**Also, I'm so happy that people didn't completely hate the OC. That's brings me joy. **

**GO! READ! I COMMAND THEE!**

Three weeks passed and nothing really changed. Tokyo was just the same. There were a few new faces mixed in with the old, and some faces disappeared entirely. Like that of the woman. She had gone back to Australia the week prior, but I still talked to her, oddly enough, through text messages. She occasionally made for interesting conversation in my significantly duller life. The woman was smart in her own way, and if I ever needed a second opinion on certain work related matters she usually gave valid advice since she was in a similar business that didn't directly interfere with my own.

Allow me to explain why I kept in contact with her before some people start to question my actions. After her departure I did some research on that gang called The Ends, the one she was apparently a member of. A very violent pack, no big surprise there. Beatings and torture were a common means of extracting…whatever it was they wanted be it information or money. I got in contact with an informant in Australia around where the gang was located. I can't remember his name but it was weird. Nero? Nairo? Nico? Started with an N and ended with an O? I didn't care. He gave me the information I wanted for free (which was nice but very odd for someone in that business). The point was, the gang was looking to expand its influence and had already hit Los Angeles hard with a couple hundred members and Tokyo was the next target. Let's just say the woman had quite a bit of influence in the gang (the informant told me that she was the temporary leader but I wasn't willing to trust that bit of information due to her behavior. She would make a terrible leader) and it would be wise on my part to have a connection. Who knew, maybe she and her gang would have come in handy. There have already been mentions of The Ends on the Dollars websites. Maybe the Australian virus had already started to spread…

Weird situation with the Australian gang aside, I started to spend less time in my office and more time wandering around the city. It was becoming almost normal for me to be outside from twelve to twelve, doing nothing but people watching and consulting with clients in restaurants and coffee shops. Or in dark alleys or in the back of cars. It depended on the person. I was hoping to stumble across Shizuo. I needed to know if he'd really keep up his end of the deal but the blonde man had been as elusive as Sasquatch. I heard people talk about him and saw his aftermath: destroyed federal mailboxes, buildings with mysterious gaping holes, a street sign through a billboard, but I always seemed to miss him by a margin of a few minutes. It was frustrating. I wanted to see him. I wanted to know if this decade long war was over. And if I saw him I would know.

Also, it was just boring.

Kids splashed around in the fountain in front of me, squealing with laughter as their parents watched from a distance. The warm weather hadn't subsided, though it was early November. I wore a blue T-shirt and tattered jeans that didn't suffocate my legs. The air smelled of rotting leaves that followed their seasonal patterns and fell from trees despite the heat wave. People chatted in the park, an elderly couple sat on a bench, feeding some pigeons and giggling like schoolchildren, and a teenage boy and girl cuddled in the shade of an autumn colored tree, her head on his shoulder, occasionally turning for a kiss between words I couldn't hear…

I was lonely. It had occurred to me a while ago that I had no real relationships outside of a few people. Like Shinra and Celty. They were good people but I don't exactly consider them to be good friends. They're 'friends' with me because they feel the need to keep an eye on me and for no other reason. I knew that. Not that I really cared. Okay, that was not entirely true; I cared to a degree. It was a human desire to have companions, and for those companions to want them. My relationships were otherwise limited to my work and my family, neither of which provided much satisfaction due to the formality of the former and the somewhat dysfunctional nature of the second. Talking to the woman gave me a vague sense of friendship but rather than giving me a sense of fulfillment it only emphasized what I was missing.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and I checked it. _"Sasha: You haven't seen Shizuo in three weeks? That has to be a record!"_ We talked about Shizuo quite a bit. The image of him ripping a sign out of the ground and throwing a lamppost (at least I think that's what it was) was etched into her memory. It was a pretty unforgettable sight, witnessing that godlike strength. She was eager to hear stories about him, for entertainment's sake it seemed, and I was more than happy to oblige. In return, she offered comical commentary and occasionally a few stories of her own.

I frowned. "_Izaya: Awful, isn't it? I don't have anyone to play dangerous dodge-ball with! (T_T)"_ Life had lost some its flavor without that constant threat of getting assaulted by a flying newsstand. Tokyo, the city I loved so much, lost some of its risk. My games got a little more dangerous to make up for the lacking threats but I quickly grew bored of them. There was only so much I could do to a predictable, average, human being before they became as dull as an old wooden pencil, losing their edge and their purpose. The only thing I could do then was toss them aside and use up another.

The phone buzzed again. _"Sasha: Aww, you miss him, don't you? :p Go to him Izaya! Beckon to your Juliet! You know you love him! 'Oh Shizuo, Shizuo! Wherefore art thou Shizuo?'LOL."_

Even though she was over a thousand miles away, I rolled my eyes at the comment. That was ludicrous. I didn't love Shizuo and I didn't know how she came up with that idea (it was not the first time she had suggested it). And I'm definitely not like Romeo. That guy was the epitome of a horny teenager and he was a borderline stalker. Well, I was a pretty good stalker if I wanted to be, a quality that I shouldn't necessarily be proud of but I am. However, if I was to be compared to a Shakespeare character, I would prefer it'd be Iago from _Othello_. Now that was a guy who knew how to manipulate people. I thought maybe I should try to mimic his actions sometime and convince a man to kill his wife. That could be fun. First I'd need to find a black man who wasn't Simon. _"Izaya: I will beckon him off a balcony. Then he will go SPLAT!" _ I didn't miss Shizuo, per say, I missed the thrill that came with him. I had grown bored of the new game that we agreed to.

_"Sasha: No, you will catch him and then….gay sex. Lots of it. 'Cause you're secretly homo. For Shizuo. 'Cause he's dead sexy. I'd do him."_

My expression contorted into that of disgust and I yawned to hide the change so I wouldn't get any weird looks from the other people occupying the park. _"Izaya: Eww… that's…disgusting."_ Mentally, I put the woman on my list of people to get back at. I didn't care about Shizuo at all. He didn't mean a thing to me. And I was definitely not gay for him. I was not gay at all. I liked women. Very few women, admittedly, but I liked more woman than I did men. Hell, she knew I liked women! I had slept with her! Sure, she had a flat chest and boyish figure, as did most of the girls I was attracted to do, but they were still girls.

_"Sasha: Sorry, that was mean of me. Even if you're like 'no-homo bro' my GAY-dar went crazy around Shizuo. But yeah, I'll shut up now."_

Yeah, or else some Yakuza members would be after her per my request. Dumb bitch. I stuffed the phone in my pocket without replying to her comment.

The kids in the fountains had somehow obtained a beach ball and were playing that game where the ball had to be kept in the air as long as possible. I watched as the boys got angry with a little girl when she missed a hit, blaming her gender for her failure. She punched one of them. They shut up and started to play again. I never got the chance to do those sorts of things when I was a child. I was always alone, watching people from a distance. Huh, not much had changed in that aspect. The little girl hit the ball too hard this time and it headed towards me. I hit it back the group and they continued. I set my elbows on my thighs and let my hands dangle between my knees. Cute kids.

Some of the mothers were smiling at me with approval for helping the kids with their games and then returned to their conversations. I had an unsettling feeling that the one wearing the tight black pants was a cougar. She winked at me and I pretended to be more interested in the kids. Did that make me sound like a pedophile? What was worse, being a pedophile or a cougar's prey? Thinking of my sisters, I would rather be oogled by a fifty year old with too much botox than check out small children.

I decided to turn my attention away from both undesirables. My thoughts were disturbing me.

Birds, little sparrows, chirped in the tree above me without a care in the world and not disturbed by the amount of people in the park. They fluffed their feathers and hopped from branch to branch to preen one another. I whistled at the birds, trying to parrot their high pitched peeps. They startled and scattered. I watched the one male bird, the one with a black feather mask around his beady eyes, as he settled on a low branch down the path.

A blonde head appeared under the branch, staring up at the little bird. My body stiffened and I gripped the edge of the wall I was sitting on. It was Shizuo, I'd have recognized that hair anywhere. Here was the moment of truth. I made a mental note of things he could possibly throw at me: the drinking fountain and the sign that reminded people to pick up after their dogs were most likely. The small children in the fountain were also likely.

He rounded the corner slowly with his hands in the pockets of his black slacks, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Not noticing me in the shade with my dark clothes, he glanced around at the people. Looking for someone, no doubt. He adjusted his sunglasses and leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the fountain. How was he not noticing me? He was looking right at me. Maybe he had closed his eyes or was focused on the kids. Maybe the tiny droplets of water that sprayed from the fountain somehow obscured his vision.

Or maybe he did see me… and he just wasn't doing anything. Like he said. No, that wasn't possible. If he saw me he would not be able to resist the urge to at least hit something. He was too impulsive, and chances were that he had forgotten about the deal anyways. He was not the brightest bulb in the circuit. He was also the bulb that flickered. Maybe had a crack in it too.

Shizuo tossed his extinguished cigarette in a trash can and folded his arms. He looked at his watch and then down the path way he came in. Definitely waiting for someone. Most likely, Celty based on that fact she was who I usually saw him with.

I looked down at the concrete wall I sat on. An ant inspected my thumb with its antennas and, deciding that I was not food, turned away. Normally I would have killed the insect, but I didn't feel motivated to. Despite the fact that Shizuo was doing _nothing_, I was too focused on him to care about the doings of the little worker.

The kids in the fountain all shouted suddenly and I nearly jumped, expecting to see Shizuo wreaking some sort of havoc, coming at me. Much to my disappointment, they had just dropped the ball again. The tallest boy picked it up and restarted the game. Shizuo was looking at his watch again.

Maybe the woman was right… maybe I did miss Shizuo a bit. I wanted to see him everywhere I went. That was why I hadn't spent any time at home and more time in Ikebukuro, where I was strictly forbidden to wander, but where I knew Shizuo would be. The idea was difficult to admit to even myself, but the more I thought about it, the more I knew it to be true. I missed the excitement and the strong emotions that came with Shizuo. He effortlessly provided me with that thrill I so often sought but rarely obtained. Nothing I did in his absence could compare. And there he was, not even twenty meters away from me, and he hadn't acknowledged me.

One of the children hit the ball in my direction again and I stuck my hand up to return it to them. Shizuo's head lifted slightly and his fists clenched. He noticed me. I stared at him with anticipation; a smile crept onto my face and my breathing became quicker. This was it. He removed his sunglasses and hooked them onto his shirt, his brown eyes meeting mine.

Oh this was exciting! What was he going to do? What was he going to do? Habitually, my body tensed and I could practically feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I wanted to call out to him but that would be breaking the deal. No, if the deal was going to be broken, he had to be the one to do it so I could hold it over his head and mock him for his failure. Trying to contain my eagerness, I pressed my nails into the concrete, scratching their manicured tips. It hurt but it achieved the desired effect.

Shizuo approached me quickly and my smile grew even broader. He had already broken the deal by approaching me, just as I had known he would. He grabbed the front of my shirt, yanking me forward and pressing his forehead to mine. He growled, "What are you doing here, flea?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm sitting and people watching." It was the truth after all. He would not believe me, obviously.

"You're up to something. Get the hell out of Ikebukuro." His eyes were narrowed and dangerous.

I continued to smile because I knew it irritated him. "I'm not up to anything, Shizzy. Just taking some time off of work. Now is that such a crime?" In an attempt to make him loosen his grip on my nice shirt I wrapped my fingers around his warm hand. His veins bulged against my skin. As expected, it was of no use and I let my hand fall to my side. "And whatever happened to us leaving each other alone?"

"You broke that deal the second you stepped foot into Ikebukuro." He stood back slightly so his forehead was no longer touching mine. I wanted to go home and sterilize the spot. Who knew how dirty Shizuo was.

I wagged a thin finger in his face. "Nah uh, you never said that I had to stay out of Ikebukuro. You said I had to stay out of your life. I stuck to my word; it's you who broke the deal by coming over here."

He growled and pulled me closer to him, causing my shirt to dig into the back of my neck painfully. "Listen, scum," he said through his teeth; he took a breath and spoke lowly into my ear, "I don't want to kill you, but if you don't get out of my sight I'll—"

The sound of quick, approaching, footsteps drew his attention away. Or maybe it was the thin hand encased in black leather that appeared on his shoulder, barely visible in my peripheral vision. It was Celty. She tugged on him gently but he didn't budge.

He looked me in the eyes for a moment and his expression relaxed. There was a tense silence. My breathing steadied. He threw me against the concrete ground, not hard enough to really hurt me, but enough to take me by surprise.

I regained my composure and rubbed my head. "Seriously, Shizzy?" That had been really immature. I should have expected it from the ape-like man. Donkey Kong… that was another name I could call him.

He lit a cigarette, turning away without another word.

The headless rider offered me a hand up but I batted it away and got to my feet. Like I said, I don't need other people to help me. I am fine on my own.

She took out her phone. _"He's going through a hard time…"_

"His life must continually suck then because he's always like that," I watched him, leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the fountain. He was watching me too.

Celty shrugged. _"Things will get better soon, I know it _ツ_. Maybe if you can't stay out of his life, try to be a more positive addition to it. He takes very well to kindness." _

"Tch, he won't let that happen." What the hell was Celty playing at? Or planning? Maybe her nonexistent head was getting jumbled from being away from the existing head for so long. She didn't know what she was talking about. I could try to be nice to Shizuo. 'Try' being the key word. He would reject it. Inevitably.

"_You never know until you make an effort. I'll see you around." _She slid the phone into her sleeve and joined Shizuo. They went off together, presumably to do….whatever they did. I didn't know. I didn't care.

I stuffed my hands into my pockets and walked the other way.

XXX

_"Sasha: So you finally saw him and he didn't try to kill you? Well I guess that's an improvement."_ I squinted up at my phone; the light blue glow hurt my eyes in the contrasting darkness of my room. It was midnight so I didn't know why the woman was still awake, it was well past two in the morning her time. Oh yeah, it was because she was a crazy Australian woman.

Tired fingers pressed the keys slowly. _"Izaya: More of a disappointment, actually D="_

_ "Sasha: You secretly like being chased down by a big, sexy man :P Maybe he likes you! :D"_

_ "Izaya: You're ridiculous."_

She didn't reply for a long time and I thought that I might have insulted her. Somehow. Not that I really cared. I rolled over in bed and kept the phone in my hand just in case she decided to reply in the following minutes. I didn't really want to fall asleep just then.

The phone buzzed about fifteen minutes later. _"Sasha: Okay, this is how shit will go down. You see Shizuo on the street and he chases you. You run away into an alley and oh no! it's a dead end! You're trapped! There's nowhere to go._

What the hell, woman? Just as I was about to reply the phone buzzed again. Oh great, one of those incredibly long text messages.

"_Sasha: You're stuck between three brick walls and a big, sexy blond man glistening with sweat. He closes in on you and there's no way to escape! He grabs the front of your shirt and pins you against the wall—"_

I was starting to get scared as to where that was going.

"_Sasha:—holding you still while you struggle for freedom! Then he kisses you and you realize your homo desires for him and kiss him back! It was so hot that you start stripping each other, right there in that alleyway— "_

Ew…

"_Sasha:—and you're totally checking him out, right? And he is really hot. Mmmhmm. Dead sexy. Like supermodel sexy. But that doesn't matter. The point is that you totally top him. And you fuck each other's brains out—"_

Ewwwww….

"_Sasha: —and because the sex was so good, you go for another two rounds! And because of the magical powers of sex, you two fall in love! Then you stay together forever in perfect homo bliss, having sex every night of the week—"_

"_Sasha:—the end :). Now go fulfill my prophecy! Go my homo minion! Go off and have a jolly gay time with Shizuo (because you totally think he's hot)."_

I stared the text on the glowing rectangular screen for a long time, not entirely sure how to respond to her horribly written and cliché pornographic story. _"Izaya: That was absolutely vile. I feel like I need a shower."_

"_Sasha: A cold shower B)."_

"_Izaya: ….no….but I will need to scrub myself clean with bleach and possibly hydrochloric acid. And mind soap. Have I mentioned that I want to kill you?"_

_ "Sasha: LMAO. Ilu too. But back on topic. Just a thought that you can totally ignore if you want to, but have you ever thought about apologizing to Shizuo? After all, being nice to your enemies tends to annoy the piss out of them."_

I really didn't want to talk to her anymore after that horrendous…whatever it was. Abomination. That was a good word. Why was that woman so weird? And vulgar._ "Izaya: You're hilarious..."_

_ "Sasha: Deep down… Deep down where your secret man crush on Shizuo exists, you also think I'm the most brilliant woman in the world and you want to give me a gigantic hug when/if I come back to Tokyo :D"_

Moron. The only thing I wanted to give her was the bubonic plague. I turned off my phone and resolved to get some sleep.

XXX

Six o'clock the next night, I stood outside a beat up door. The paint was chipping and the knob was dented. The hinges were starting to rust and part of the molding was missing. I took a deep breath and knocked twice on the decrepit slab of wood. The light that peeked though the crack underneath it assured me that he was home. I pressed myself against the wall so he couldn't potentially see me through the peephole and refuse to open up.

Admittedly, I was a little tipsy. The client I had met with insisted on drinks and to be polite I finished one. I didn't know what it was but since I saw he was drinking it too, I assumed it was safe. Unfortunately, it must have had high alcohol content. I was a small person and a skinny one at that. Liquor did not always go over well with me, especially the hard stuff.

"Coming," his deep voice answered. I could hear his heavy footsteps then the gentle rattle of the lock.

He broke our little deal so I had full license to bother him. An eye for an eye, right? I took out my phone and checked a message from the woman, who I told about my venture to Shizuo's apartment. _"Sasha: Get someeee!"_ How very mature. I didn't reply.

When he opened the door his slightly irritated expression deepened until his teeth showed and his eyebrows furrowed like a savage wolf. I just smiled at him.

"Ah! Shizzy! I'm surprised you actually opened—"

He grabbed the collar of my shirt and yanked me inside. He kicked the door shut behind him and pinned me against it. I noticed stacks of boxes behind him. All of them were labeled with neat handwriting that I knew didn't belong to him. I struggled halfheartedly, knowing that he would release me sooner or later. Patience was a virtue Shizuo had yet to learn. "What don't you understand about 'leave me alone'?" he almost snarled when he said the words. Shizuo really was like a puppy. Or an angry eunuch. I still wanted to find a good opportunity to call him that.

"You broke the deal, I'm simply returning the favor," I explained plainly. I shrugged despite my restricted position. "You could have just ignored me at the park just like I could have ignored you when I walked by here just a few minutes ago," the second part was a lie. I had planned this meeting. I knew that he was almost always home after five on Sunday nights because he had to work early in the morning.

"I don't give a damn about the deal," he stepped closer to me, his chest only a few inches from mine. My heart beat quickened. "I want to know why. Why do you keep harassing me? I've tried fucking everything to get you out of my life. I tried mean, that didn't work. I tried nice, and that didn't work either. I want you gone."

Yes, yes, we had been over this a thousand times. I knew he hated me with the fiery passion equivalent to the eruption at Pompeii. "Shizuo, frankly, I don't think I can bring myself to get out of your life. I realized over the past few weeks that things are a lot less fun without you to bother. So I'm here. I'm bothering you. And already I'm having more fun!"

He punched the wall beside my ear. The sound made me wince and I stopped smiling. The plaster cracked around his knuckles. That could have been my head. I reached into my pocket for my switchblade. If that was how he wanted to play, fine. Even being severely restricted, I quickly flicked out the sharp metal blade and held it just below his jaw just close enough for him to feel it but not enough for it to draw blood. Little did he know that my position wouldn't allow me to actually slash him even if I wanted to.

An agile hand grabbed my wrist, pulling me away from his neck. Shizuo easily worked the blade out of my hand and tossed it behind him. I blame my intoxication for slow reaction time. Why did I go there after I had a drink? That wasn't very smart on my part. With his free hand, he reached into both of my pockets and pulled out my cell phone. Whoa, Shizuo was being smart! I was tempted to applaud him.

I sighed and thought about what the woman had said. What if I was to apologize? Sacrifice my pride and take responsibility for all the pain that I had personally caused Shizuo. If I didn't like the results, then I could dismiss the actions as an experiment with no meaning behind it other than to witness his reaction.

"What do you want from me?" he rephrased. His knuckles had turned white.

"To talk," I said flatly. "Can you put me down and show me some of the courtesy I showed you when you came to my apartment unannounced?" I was not entirely sure what I would talk to him about because I had achieved my goal of irritating him as soon as I stepped through the door. Maybe I could toy with his peanut-sized brain for a bit, make him squirm and question himself. That sounded okay.

He stared at me for a long time, as if something in my face would tell him whether or not I was messing with him. "I smell alcohol," he stated.

"No you don't," the bitter aftertaste was on my tongue as I said the words.

"I do, you're drunk, aren't you?"

"Just a little tipsy."

He opened his hand and my feet clumsily hit the floor, "Don't do anything."

I smoothed my shirt, thankful that I was still intact and surprisingly, thankful for the fact that I smelled like liquor. Like I said, Shizuo had morals. He couldn't pummel someone who was intoxicated. I was just buzzed but not smashed, so that almost worked to my advantage. I followed him into what used to be his living room. Boxes were stacked against the wall containing any small piece of furniture that might have been in there. All that was left was a couch, a television set, and a gigantic pile of CD cases. Shizuo picked up my switchblade from the floor and pocketed it before sitting on the floor in front of the disorganized menagerie of thin, square, plastic boxes.

"Where are you moving?" I asked. Why not make pointless small talk. It seemed to go over well with simple people. He couldn't be going very far if Celty was still adamant about us keeping peace.

He slid a small stack of cases neatly into the box. "Not telling you. Say what you need to say so you can get the hell out."

I shrugged and sat on the floor across from him. "Can I help out?" I pointed to the pile of CDs that I realized he was alphabetizing. See? I was capable of being nice… Of course it was for my own benefit at the moment but it still counted. I needed to get Shizuo to let his guard down a bit. I didn't have ill intent.

"If you really want to," he sounded tired. He probably secretly appreciated my assistance. Well, not mine in particular. Any help would have been nice.

I flipped through the titles of the albums, recognizing most of them, and started to sort them based on the beginning letter. When he figured out what I was doing, Shizuo stated to add some CD's to the stacks I had started. It was easier than his method of organizing them as they were put in the box.

A picture of a naked baby on an album cover caught my eye and I picked it up. "You listen to Nirvana?"

"Occasionally," he said uninterestedly.

The album was tossed into the N pile, "You know what happened to the lead singer, Kurt Cobain? Shot himself in bed after writing a suicide note to his childhood imaginary friend. I find that interesting on a psychological level," I paused. That was a little bit of a morbid opening topic. "Sad to see talent go," I added.

He nodded without looking at me, "I doubt that you wanted to talk to me about Kurt Cobain's suicide. Get to the point, Izaya. I want you out of my house."

"I didn't know you liked American music. I always pictured you as the classical type since you claim to hate violence and all."

"Izaya. Topic."

"What? Classical music is soothing. I listen to Mozart on occasion. He was also an interesting person. Unlike Cobain, they're not really sure how Mozart died. The most reasonable explanation seems to be that he just fell ill but there are theories that Salieri, a musical rival, poisoned him out of jealousy." I really didn't know why I was talking about how famous musicians died. I almost hoped to find an Elvis CD. That would be fun to talk about.

Intense brown eyes glared at me, saying words that he didn't need to repeat. Sensing that I was only mere seconds away from being pinned to the ground or punched through a window, with no knife to defend myself, decided to stop beating around the bush. I picked up Frank Sinatra album, thinking that the CD didn't belong to him, and set it in the F pile, "I was thinking back to the conversation we had I few weeks ago and I remembered that I interrupted you when you were going to say something. Something about you realizing something because of Celty…" I lead off, hoping that he would recall. It wasn't the topic I wanted to get to but it was leading to it.

"I remember, but I'm not going to tell you," he said to the pile behind him.

I frowned and leaned back on my hands. "So mean, Shizzy. You know what I find weird.(?) Just about every time I see you or hear about you, you've got Celty with you. That can't go over well with Shinra, because, you know, they've been dating for a while now."

He rolled his eyes and put down the CD he was holding. It happened to be Mozart. I so called it. "What are you getting at, flea? Celty is my friend, not that you know anything about that."

Ouch. That was a low blow. Was it really so painfully obvious that I didn't have any real friends? I guess Shinra counted in a weird way. The woman was mostly a source of entertainment and a tool so she wasn't factored into the equation. "Well, I wasn't suggesting that there was anything sexual going on between you."

"I didn't say you were."

"Why is Shinra okay with it? He's so…protective over her. I'm sure he doesn't like the idea of his grade school friend constantly hanging out with his girlfriend. Don't take this the wrong way, but he has to recognize you're more attractive than him. Structurally at least. Don't you think he gets a little worried that you might whisk away his precious little Celty."

He raised his eyebrows with a slightly irritated are-you-kidding-me look plastered on his face. "Unlike you, people trust me."

Again. Ouch. I was trustworthy…provided I had reason to be. I was an informant; the job was deceitful in its nature. Most of the time, I didn't have to sell information on people I knew personally. I screwed over a lot of people. Broken hearts. Broken families. Destroyed businesses. But not one of them was close to me. My family was safe. Shinra was safe. And one would have to pay a very high sum to get information on Shizuo. Not because I was fond of him but because he was mine to screw up. Other people could wait until I was done.

"Why do I get the feeling that you have no idea what you're doing here?" he sighed, leaning his elbows on his thighs and letting his hands dangle in front of him. Was it really that obvious? Maybe I should have stopped rambling.

I didn't see a point in lying anymore. Actually, I saw a point in telling the truth. The truth would confuse him more than a lie this case. The truth was that I simply wanted to see him. I didn't like admitting it to myself but the notion possessed a certain charm when I realized that it would probably puzzle the blonde man. I did miss him a little bit, in weird way. Talking to him was nicer than being chased by him. The blood still pulsed with the same hormones that made my heart beat with same excitement. It was strange that my body would behave in the same way. Was…was it possible that it was just Shizuo that did that to me? Not likely...maybe? It was probably the anticipation of inevitable destruction. That was more plausible.

"Izaya, your face is red," he pointed out.

It was the alcohol, "What's your point?"

Shizuo stood up, "I'm getting you a glass of water," he said and walked a few paces into his small kitchen.

I stared at my hands dumbly. Could it be just Shizuo? Not the danger, not the risk, not the game that I was attracted to? Is that why I had kept it up for so many years? I could have gotten into trouble with the Yakuza if I wanted that sort of thrill. They could keep me on the run, on my toes. Hell, they were a bigger threat than Shizuo just because of the weapons and intelligence at their disposal. Why Shizuo? Why did I insist on tormenting Shizuo?

"Here," he held a glass out to me and I took it carefully, making sure not to touch him accidently. He sat across from me again and flipped through the significantly smaller stash of unorganized CD's. "Drink," he ordered.

I stared at the clear liquid without doing what he asked but not to be deliberately disobedient. Those thoughts were distracting me. The people that I messed with for my own amusement were only worth a few weeks entertainment at best. Shizuo wasn't that interesting of a person. Violent and stupid; the kind of personality that I despised paired with traits that I so greatly admired: his strength, his determination, his ability to stand by his beliefs… why did he interest me so much?

Swallowing, I noted the dryness in my throat and took a sip of the water. It was cool and pleasant. I gestured to the six CD's on the floor: Bach, Queen, Kemuri, Tak Matsumoto, Eminem (didn't expect that), and Aerosmith. I assumed not all of the CD's actually belonged to him, or at least he didn't listen to them. "See, I helped," I picked up the Eminem, Areosmith, and Bach because the stacks they were to go into were closest to me, "Now was me hanging around so bad?"

Shizuo put the last of the CD's into their respective piles. "So you did help," he said without commenting on the second part of my statement. He pulled a cardboard box close to him, the thick papery material swishing against the wooden floor. "But get to your point or get out of my house," he sounded calmer than he did before.

"Can I help with anything else?" I didn't want to leave. Not right then at any rate. What was wrong with me? Rhetorical question, I don't think anyone wants to know the full extent of my problems. Or think about it. I didn't like thinking about it. Maybe one little chunk at a time but not all at once. Right then the focus was on Shizuo.

He spoke as he put the plastic cases in the box. "Izaya, do you have any business here other than to inconvenience me?"

"I'm being hardly inconvenient! Thanks to me we got that ridiculous stack of CD's organized a quarter of the time it would have taken you," I smiled but I didn't know why. "Maybe we could get your entire apartment packed up tonight," I mused.

He brushed back his hair and looked at the stray furniture and belongings around him, as if he was sizing up the challenge of getting everything stored away before the end of the day. "You really want to?"

I shrugged. "I've got nothing to do."

"Except that you're planning to do something horrible to me," he said. His expression was serious and his eyes were narrowed suspiciously. The plastic cases clacked when he put them into the box. He was so on and off with being angry with me. He seemed to start to let his guard down for a second, realize that he was slipping, and snap it back up.

"Maybe that's what I want you to think and in reality, I don't plan on doing anything to you. You'll just drive yourself insane with suspicion while I innocently sit back and ask if I can help pack up your silverware," I leaned back on my hands again.

He was quiet for a moment. I probably confused him. That poor simple man. "I would never let you touch my silverware," he said for lack of a better response.

"I'm tempted to run into the kitchen now and put fingerprints all over them," I said but kept palms flat against the hardwood floor. I had no intention of moving or fulfilling that temptation. I wanted to see if he would play along with me.

"If you do that I'll throw the fridge at you," his threat didn't seem serious either.

"Then I will get finger prints on that too."

"No you wouldn't because you would be squished," he gathered the last of the CD's and barely squeezed them into the cardboard container.

"If I were squished, wouldn't I get fingerprints _and_ blood on it? That would be a very unpleasant mess to clean up."

The corners of his lips started to form a playful smile and he breathed a short laugh, "I wouldn't clean it up. You're like a cockroach. I'd wait for you to wiggle your way out from under it and then tell you to clean it up."

"But cockroaches are dirty creatures! Why would you want something so filthy to 'clean' something of yours? It would just become a bigger mess," I shook my head as if it was an unfortunate thought. Cockroaches would make horrible maids. They were better suited for the military. Highly trained cockroach unit for the most dangerous of jobs: they were indestructible. Why was I thinking about that?

He reached behind him and grabbed a roll of packing tape. "That cockroach had better do a good job at cleaning up otherwise he will be flicked across Tokyo."

"And then he will come crawling back to your silverware drawer."

"And then I will pick him up and flush him down the toilet," he said and taped the box shut. He chuckled suddenly, "how did we get on this topic?"

I smiled. That was strange. So…odd. Shizuo and I were sitting around and having a somewhat normal conversation. We were amusing each other the way friends do. He was relaxed. Was that the rumored 'nice' Shizuo that I had so often heard of but never had the pleasure of witnessing because that aspect had always been hidden by a mask of hatred? It had to be close to it. I doubted that he had completely let his guard down. He watched me, with a smile on his lips, he watched me. His shoulders slumped, his fingers were not clenched into a fist, and his teeth weren't clamped in repressed anger. Yet I knew if I were to make a sudden move he would be on me like a hound on a fox. Perhaps he wanted to trust me for once, but years of experience shouted at him not to. To be wary. It was reluctant civility.

It irked me slightly that I had been wrong about Shizuo, regarding how he would receive me if I tried to be friendly. Sure, it took a little effort but much less than I had anticipated. Maybe he wanted to like me. Maybe he already liked me. No, that wasn't possible. If anyone had a right to hate me, it was him. God, I had been downright mean to him! For no reason! For no pay, no benefit to anyone, not even myself. It was like a pointless experiment. It was cruelty. And despite all that he was wasn't attacking me. So strange yet it felt as natural as our fighting did.

That pesky organ that we associate with emotions pounded against my rib cage. I felt hyper suddenly. I tapped my index finger quickly against the floor as if it would release some of the energy. It was ineffective.

Shizuo got to his feet again and picked up the box, placing it atop a stack behind him, making it less of a tripping hazard. "Are you seriously here just to bother me?"

"Pretty much, I lied earlier. I don't have anything of particular interest to talk to you about," I admitted. I stood up as well and noted our height difference. Huh, it wasn't as big as I thought. He was only about four inches taller than me. Maybe five.

"I thought so," he quietly picked up another empty box and moved into the room behind him. "If you want to keep helping, you can start folding some clothes," he called though I couldn't see him.

I followed him into his bedroom, taking the unfinished glass of water with me, and he set the box on his unmade bed. For some reason, I had expected his room to be blue and white. I was completely right. There was some brown furniture like the dresser and side table, but the sheets and pillows and the lampshade were blue. The walls were stark white but seemed to take on a yellowish tint from the overhead light.

He had a small pile of white clothes on the floor and I sat down beside it to start folding while he opened the drawer to his dresser. He glanced over at me every few seconds as if he expected me to pour a bottle of ink on his nice, clean clothes. I was much more creative than that, obviously. If I had planned to do something horrible to his clothes I would have cut a few strings so the entire shirt would fall apart when he put it on or snip the threads that held the buttons on so they would pop off the second he held one. When he decided that I was just innocently folding his rather sizable collection of white shirts he focused his attention on emptying his underwear drawer.

"You have so many of the same shirts," I commented after I had folded the sixth white button down.

"Kasuka bought them for me when I had the bartending job a while back," he answered.

"But you lost that job years ago," I pointed out against my better judgment.

"Thanks to you."

I stared up at the ceiling as if it would tell me how to respond. No answers were provided. Ceilings are horrible at giving advice (that was a joke. I didn't legitimately think ceilings could talk.) "Huh, I guess that was my fault. My bad," what else could I say? I could have apologized. That would be a good idea if I wanted this…whatever that was… to continue. I didn't want to piss off Shizuo anymore…not right then at least. "Sorry about that," I said without trying to put much meaning behind the words. Who cared if it wasn't a completely sincere apology? He didn't have to know.

"Did…" he closed the drawer and his expression was strange. A little shocked. "Did you just apologize?"

I rolled my crimson eyes and placed another neatly folded shirt onto the pile. I didn't know what to say in response so I kept my mouth shut. Blame it on the alcohol. Taking another shirt, I folded it wordlessly but I could practically feel his stare. Watching my every movement. Analyzing me to the best of his pea-sized brain's ability. It was futile for him to even attempt to figure out what was going on in my mind. I wasn't even quite sure myself at that moment…

All I knew was that I wanted to be there. I wanted to see Shizuo. I wanted to be around him. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted the rush of hormones. I wanted the risk. I wanted him to be nice to me. I wanted him to accept me…

I felt my face go red that time. Oh God.

I wanted him. Just Shizuo. He was what I wanted.

"I wasn't aware that you knew how to apologize. I guess you do learn something new every day," he mused, unaware of my epiphany.

Was I…was I attracted to Shizuo? Oh dear God that couldn't be. That was impossible. There had to be another explanation as to why I felt the way I did around him. I was more complex than other humans, right? That means my emotions were allowed to be more complex. My fiercely beating heart, the difficulty swallowing, the extreme self awareness, the desire to be near him, to talk to him, to hear his voice, to feel his touch, to….oh God. Shit. Shit!

I started to tremble against my will. Why was a getting so worked up? It was nothing. Nothing at all. Blame it on the alcohol. That stupid alcohol. My emotions were awry because I was intoxicated. That had to be it. It had to be. My eyes studied him though I tried to look away. I wanted to look away. Almost every time I saw him I acknowledge how handsome he was. The gold in his hair, the flecks of copper in his fierce eyes, his lithe and muscular body, his high cheekbones, his strong jaw line…I studied his movements, noted his posture, and watched his expressions with the utmost attentiveness. I tried to find meaning behind all of his actions under the forced delusion that I was analyzing him, trying to figure out what could possible cause his downfall. Find his weaknesses. In reality, I was just trying to figure him out. All of him.

For years I had acknowledged that Shizuo interested me. He was different from others. He was so powerful, so unpredictable. Yet people adored him. I adored him. I chased after him like Echo chased after Narcissus, only to be met with rejection and violence when I showed myself. I had to get away before I got hurt…

He glanced at me once and then did a double take. "Izaya…are you okay?" he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

I forced a smile, "I just remembered that I have something to do—" I lied horribly. So horribly that even Shizuo, who was as dimwitted as a Dodo bird, raised his brows skeptically. "It was so lovely to spend this time with you," I stood up and forced my gaze away from him.

"What's wrong—?"

"I wanted to stay longer but I have a prior engagement, so…" I didn't know what to say. My mind was broken. Or something was broken at least. "Bye," I finished quickly and started out of his room.

He grabbed my arm, tight enough to hold me still but not tight enough to hurt me. "Izaya something's wrong. I don't know if you should be going out…"

My chest…my stomach…everything felt strange. So uncomfortable. Warm and fluttery. And frozen. Chills. I couldn't be near him. I had to get away. I yanked my arm out of his grasp and ran to the door and he didn't chase me that time. He couldn't catch me anyways with his knee (which couldn't possibly be completely healed. I had almost forgotten that it had been injured in the first place).

I had to run. Run from him. Run from my emotions. Run from the horrifying thoughts within my twisted mind.

In a deplorable display of cowardice….I did.

**Authors Rambling/Groveling: My lovely lovely proofreader KonspiracyKid was not able to edit this whole chapter because she is awayyy. So hopefully it wasn't too terrible!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors rambling/groveling: ANOTHER LONG CHAPTER! So. Much. EMO. And my lovely lovely beautiful proofreader KonspiracyKid has returned to make sure I don't make stupid mistakes! **

**READ YOU BEAUTIFUL READERS! **

I pressed my forehead against the refrigerator and waited for the water dispenser to finish filling my glass. Sleep didn't come easily these days. In fact, it hardly came at all. My epiphany from the previous night did not help in the slightest. Even when sober, that thought was still in the forefront of my mind. I was attracted to Shizuo Heiwajima. The more I thought about it the less I could deny it. What had once been morbid curiosity and hatred had turned out to be something entirely different. Fascination. It was too much to take in…

Maybe I was delusional. I hated Shizuo, didn't I? He tried to kill (or at least severely injure) me every opportunity he got. I had, in turn, framed him for countless crimes, and had frankly made his life as difficult as possible. That represented hatred, did it not?

I chuckled to myself and shook my head. What had even happened the previous night was almost unbelievable. Surreal. Surreal, but nice. We had been sitting around like good friends, packing up his apartment, chatting about nothing, joking…Of course this was all after he had attempted to pummel me, but that was beside the point. It was possible for us to be civil with each other. To not fight. To sit together and laugh.

What was wrong with me? Why hadn't I realized it sooner? How long had I been attracted to him? Was this what being stupid felt like? When there was nothing but questions and not a single answer? If it was, then I felt sorry for Shizuo. No wonder he was always so angry. Being stupid must be very frustrating.

When my water glass was filled I leaned against the cool metal surface of the fridge and drank. It helped to wake me up a bit and clear my head. Coffee. Coffee might be a good idea. I definitely needed the caffeine if I had any desire to accomplish something that day. Clients to meet with, lives to destroy, research to do, my sexuality to figure out, maybe some lunch…Needless to say, I was busy.

I decided to check some emails while I waited for the coffee to finish brewing. There was nothing of particular interest in my emails, just the confirmations of appointments and scheduling of new ones. The only clients I had that day were scheduled to see me after noon or in the evening. Also, there were only three of them, so it was a slow day. Not that I minded, given the circumstances. Sometimes I came before my work.

What to do about Shizuo… What could I do? I was attracted to my worst enemy. Doesn't that sound like the plot of a bad romance novel? All that happens in those is that they argue, the arguing turns them on somehow, they have hot hate sex, and then everything is fine and wonderful. Or someone gets raped. I wasn't willing to do either. The idea of homosexual sex made my stomach turn. It was worse when I pictured it with Shizuo. Ugh. That was disgusting.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead, bemoaning the heat wave. It was November 5th and according to the thermometer, it was thirty-three degrees Celsius (or ninety-two degrees Fahrenheit). And it wasn't even noon! My sleeping shirt clung to my skin and my skin clung to…everything. Gross. Despite what TV sport advertisements show, sweating is very rarely attractive. It's very unpleasant. I needed a shower.

I went to the bathroom, turned on the shower to a cooler temperature than usual, and stripped. For a moment I observed my reflection in the mirror over the sink, noting that the blue-ish tint under my eyes had gotten darker, like I was an insomniac. Something seemed off about my usual expression but I figured it had to do with getting so little sleep. Emotional turmoil didn't have that much power over me. At least not enough to affect me at a physical level. Don't argue that insomnia is a physical side-effect of emotional distress. I'm a night-owl who needs to wake up early. It's something that I thought was a phase that started during adolescence, but apparently it never ended. No matter how often I tried to get to sleep at a reasonable hour my body would not allow it… I am not making excuses.

I turned the knob on the shower to make it even colder before getting in. The water chilled my sweat-dampened skin and washed away the stickiness. I wetted my hair to cool my head, but sadly only on a physical level. My mind was still overheating from thought. I didn't bother to turn up the temperature after I had comfortably cooled myself, as I normally did.

Though I did most of my deep thinking in the shower (come on, who doesn't solve major life problems while standing naked under a rush of water?), my thoughts weren't focused on Shizuo. And he was definitely a major problem. For me, at least. But instead my attention was turned to a different nagging feeling. All morning I had felt as if I was forgetting something, something important. Just what was it? I confirmed appointments with clients, I met with everyone I needed to the previous day, I had remembered to do my laundry, the dishes had been clean, the stove had been turned off, I had paid my bills, I had chatted with my mother for my obligatory twenty minutes a week, I had gone grocery shopping had forgotten to get cheese (but I knew that wasn't what was bothering me) I had checked the Dollars website and there wasn't anything interesting… Damn, what was it? Why was I so off that day? I was never like that.

After another minute of undisrupted thought I still couldn't recall what it was. Maybe I had forgotten to pick up my dry cleaning. That was probably it, actually. I was supposed to do that two days ago. Oh well, I would just grab it on the way back from meeting my second client.

Not wanting to waste more water than I had to, I washed myself with products that had a pleasantly spicy, yet undefined scent before turning off the shower. I dried my skin and ruffled my hair with the towel. The droplets of water that remained in my hair kept me cool so I didn't bother to finish drying it.

With the towel wrapped securely around my hips, I went to my room, which was still dark, but grossly warm because I had forgotten to leave my door open. I was unwilling to be in there longer than I absolutely had to so quickly dressed myself in a pair of white slacks and a gray shirt made of very thin cotton.

Air conditioning. I could turn on the air conditioning. See, I told you I was out of it. Why hadn't I thought of that earlier? Before going downstairs to do just that, I pushed some clothes aside in my closet. The safe was just as I left it. I wondered how hot it was in there…Maybe I should open it, let her cool off a bit. Could she feel things like temperature? I wasn't entirely sure if there was a specific way I had to look after her. It wasn't like she came with an instruction manual. A strange urge overcame me and I unlocked the safe to let her out of her little prison. It wasn't pity, more like the need to nurture. God, what was wrong with me?

I took a towel off of the top of the safe and gently lifted the head out of its container. It was warmer than usual, poor thing. I patted the Dullahan's red hair with the towel, drying it a bit before wrapping the white terrycloth around the severed neck. I knew it didn't bleed or ooze or secrete any unclean matter whatsoever, but I always wrapped that part of the head.

Tucking her under my arm, I brought her downstairs with me and turned on the air conditioning. That would make things at least a little more pleasant. If I had to worry about Shizuo I didn't want to worry about the heat. Goddamn weather. The heat was horrible. And why yes, I could have gone on forever about how much I hated the heat.

I went back to my computer and logged into the Dollar's website, idly stroking the head's damp hair. It was like my evil cat, only creepier. People were still talking about the Australian gang. Kids were getting double eyebrow piercings. Oh, how delightful! I would have a whole new gang to factor into my little war.

"Isn't this exciting, Celty?" I said even though I wasn't sure if the head could hear me. If it could it definitely didn't respond. Which just led me to wonder if it was even capable of responding… Did it have an Irish accent? That question was going to bother me.

I held her face between my hands, turning her so she faced me. I set my elbows on my desk and just looked at her for a long time. Raw power seemed to emanate from her. The aura tickled my palms and brushed over my skin, taunting me. My lack of power. Right then I felt so weak. That situation with Shizuo…Oh, so many things were wrong with it!

"Miss Celty, do you think I'm gay?" I asked it as if it was a serious question. It was, but I didn't expect an answer. Sometimes talking out loud helped me to figure stuff out. That subject needed to be figured out. I didn't want to be gay… but I knew, and I had known since middle school, that I was attracted to the same gender as my own. I just didn't want to admit it. "Miss Celty, I don't want to be gay but I think I am," I confessed to her with quiet words. There, I had confided in someone. Although it was not satisfying, probably because of the lack of reaction.

There was a knock at the door. I opened an empty draw in my desk, where I had kept the head for a while until a couple of months ago, and gently stowed her away in there. I didn't have time to return her to the safe and she would be just fine there for the time being.

Whoever it was knocked on the door again. "Coming, coming," I called. People could be so impatient. I hadn't kept the person waiting for more than fifteen seconds, just long enough to hide Celty and lock her away. Looking through the peephole, I saw that there was no one in my line of sight. Odd. I opened the door anyways to make sure it wasn't a midget. Unlikely, but possible. Should I have been politically correct and used the term 'little person'? Well, I could be as politically incorrect as I wanted in my mind. No one would care.

The person I saw was the opposite of a little person. No, he was a big person. Tall and blonde. Great, just the man I wanted to see while I was having my sexuality crisis. The master of bad timing and utter destruction. My morning was going great, wasn't it! (Again, sarcasm).

"Shizuo," I smiled. "What a pleasant surprise," I made sure my tone was indecipherable. I really, really did not want to see him.

He reached into his pocket and held out what looked like a jumbled mess of wires and plastic. It was black and looked like there was a shattered screen of sorts. And buttons… And a lens… "Here's your phone. The SIM card is okay…I think."

"Oh… uh…" I stared at the mangled electronic as if it had been my dog. Not a huge deal that it was dead, but still kind of sad. It was still important to me but I could always get another one. I let him discard the remains of my cell phone in my hand. At least I had finally figured out what I had forgotten. "Thank you, I think. Is that all?"

He shook his head. "No, I want to talk to you," he answered cryptically.

Well, I didn't want to have another lovely chat with the dolt. He could have gone away at any moment and I would not care. In fact, his going away was desired."I don't particularly want to talk to you."

"Why not?"

I leaned against the doorway with that fake grin still on my face. "Have you forgotten that we hate each other? Really, I've done horrible things to you and you want to sit around and chat?"

"Believe it or not, Izaya, these past three weeks have been the most peaceful weeks of my life. You want to know why?"

"Not really. I just want you to go away." My heart beat started to quicken. I silently commanded that it slowed to a normal pace. It was not effective. Why did that have to start right then?

He took a step closer. "I'm staying here until you sit and speak with me," he said, as if I didn't have any other choice. Oh, I had a choice; I could pull out my switchblade and…oh wait. He had taken that when I had invaded his apartment and I'd never gotten it back. Great. "Because you not bothering me is probably the best thing that has happened to me in a long time—"

My heart fluttered and that smile felt genuine for a moment. No. Stop it. My heart was not supposed to 'flutter'. I did not like to make Shizuo happy. I enjoyed the opposite. I enjoyed his misery. Didn't I? Why was I questioning myself? Of course I took pleasure in his anger; that was why I had intentionally pissed him off for so many years. Yet…

I scoffed, "I can change that."

"Are you going to let me in or not, flea?" He leaned his arm against the doorframe, over my head, as if he was trying to dwarf me. Nice try Shizzy, those supposedly scary five inches didn't intimidate me before and they didn't work then.

Dull red eyes met brown. "Are you going to rip the door off if I don't?"

"Most likely."

I stuffed my deceased phone into my pocket. "Fine, just try not to demolish my apartment. It's expensive."

I stepped aside, allowing Shizuo to pass. Despite that his presence was less than desirable, I decided to be civil in hopes that he would leave quicker. There wasn't much else I could do. I remembered the coffee I had started before I had gotten into the shower. "You want some coffee?" I offered to be a good host. Being a good to my guests is important to me, it was something that my parents drilled into my head since I was a little kid. The guest will always get the best treatment. Albeit, I didn't know if that philosophy applied to Shizuo since he was… Shizuo. Given the situation, I wasn't going to give him a hard time just because he had caused me nothing but agonizing confusion for the past twelve hours. At the moment, it felt as if he had the upper hand. I couldn't really give him a hard time. He had the upper hand. Plus, lack of sleep and the oppressive heat (although it was slightly more tolerable with the air conditioning on, I guessed) drained my motivation.

"Why not," he walked around the bar that separated the kitchen from the living room and leaned his elbows on it. Even in the different setting he watched me as if he expected me to start spouting nonsense about integrals in Latin. Again, I wasn't that evil. And still his eyes followed me.

I took two white mugs from the cabinet and filled them with the hot liquid. The temperature could never be too warm for a nice cup of coffee. "What do you want?" I called behind me.

"Well, after you left last night—"

I rolled my eyes. "I meant in your coffee," I said, sounding a little snippier than I had intended. But that didn't matter because I didn't want him around in the first place. I could almost _feel_ his ill intention, even though he hadn't told me what he wanted to discuss.

"Oh, uh, cream and sugar if you have it," he answered.

Moron. I fixed him a cup and handed it to him. I left mine black just because it was the mood I was in. Also, I wanted to be different from him. "I would have thought you took yours black."

He shrugged and turned the mug in his hand. "It's too bitter like that."

"Ah, I like mine black," I said, even though I knew it was a dead end conversation. I hated those. They seemed to happen a lot with Shizuo. At least in my limited experience.

"Like your soul?" He gave a joking grin.

"Yes, exactly like my soul," I replied sarcastically. I set my black-like-my-soul cup of coffee on the low table in front of my couch and sat down. "Take a seat, Shizzy. Talk. Get this over with."

Instead of taking a seat in the chair across from me, as I expected him to, he sat next to me. I adjusted myself so I could better look at him. And at the same time, put some distance between us. He was sitting too close to me. I could faintly smell is cologne, a pleasant piney scent. Why was he wearing cologne? Maybe he always wore it and I just never noticed. Weird. I stared at his handsome face, trying to establish eye contact. That was important with people like Shizuo, his eyes and his expression in general. It helped me to evaluate his thoughts, what emotions he was feeling. Though I wasn't great at reading him, I had discovered, it was worth a try. Practice makes perfect after all. If Shinra could read Celty, then I could definitely read Shizuo. Really, how well could a Neanderthal hide his emotions? I bet I was just missing a few bits of knowledge about the man. It was frustrating, he was so simple that I should have been able to read him like a children's book but I couldn't!

Shizuo's shoulders weren't tense, his jaw wasn't clenched, his eyebrows were not furrowed, and his hands held the coffee mug with care. His feet were flat on the floor and his knees about a foot apart as he leaned back against the cushion of the sofa. Relaxed. Whatever he had come to talk to me about wasn't causing him any stress. It intrigued and worried me. Maybe he had a secret sadistic side. He was only so calm and seemingly pleasant because he brought me bad news.

Well, worse than him breaking my phone. I thought I should probably get Shizuo-insurance to replace or repair any damage done by the blonde brute.

"Did you finish packing after I left?" I asked to try to ease into whatever he wanted to talk about. Based on what he had said earlier, he wanted to talk about the previous night. I had a bad feeling about it. His mannerisms, his general aura, made me worried, like he knew something and was going to hold it over my head. There wasn't much I could do to defend myself because he could handle whatever I dished out. He'd proven that time and time again.

He took a sip of his coffee, "No, actually. I just finished packing some more of my clothes, did some reading, then went to bed. I should be done packing today."

"So when does breaking my phone factor into this?" I asked. That had been really juvenile of him, crushing my phone like that. That cell phone was one of my most treasured possessions, it was almost an essential. I needed it like Gollum needs the Ring, except I wasn't creepy. Or ugly. I didn't know why its absence hadn't been noted earlier. Was I really so preoccupied with my thoughts that I had forgotten about it? I was so out of sorts… Shizuo and I really needed to stop meeting when I wasn't in my best condition. It gave him an unfair advantage.

He smiled and set the mug on the table. What was so funny? "After I did some reading, actually," he said simply.

Did the words frustrate him so much that it sent him into a blind, phone destructive fury? Shizuo did not like reading. I knew that. From what I've seen, he'd growl in frustration if he had to read something that was longer than a paragraph. "What book was it?" Hmm what sort of books would someone who hates reading read? Maybe it was a manual (on how to be a proper eunuch, part of my mind supplied). That would be reading he had to do and would make him sufficiently frustrated. That was a possibility. The complexity of human language seemed to pose a challenge for him, seeing his abhorrence for words whether they be written or spoken. Maybe he'd find residence in the gorilla exhibit in the zoo more his speed. They had about the same intelligence level and I bet one of them could tutor him in literary comprehension.

That mysterious smile continued to tug at his lips. "It wasn't a book," I was worried. Had he read something about me? No, that was impossible. Any possible information about me online or on public accounts has been removed, and the suppliers of that confidential information have been computer hacked or otherwise tormented. Information on Izaya Orihara belonged to Izaya Orihara. No one else unless absolutely necessary. "Sasha is quite the writer, isn't she?"

The woman? What had the woman wri—Oh fuck. My phone…The text messages…Everything from the past two days. That horrible story she had told. I took a sip of my coffee quickly, to give me more time to form an adequate response, and burned my tongue. Coughing, I set the coffee mug down on the table. Well that could have gone over better. At least the coughing fit gave me more time to think. How much could he have read? Oh, let his hatred of reading be stronger than his curiosity. This was my reputation at stake! Though I had adamantly denied the entirety of the woman's claims that I was attracted to Shizuo, my defensiveness could have been misconstrued as denial.

"Graceful, Izaya." He said. "When you get a new phone, you should tell Sasha 'Thank you' for all the nice things she said about me. Sure, it irritated me initially but now I find it kind of flattering." He leaned back against the couch and tapped his chin as if in thought. "What were some of the things she said to describe me? 'Dead sexy,' 'hot,' 'supermodel?' It surprised me that you didn't have anything to say to that."

"I was too preoccupied with the homosexual implications of her comments to be concerned about what she was saying about your appearance." If he had read all of the text messages, I was screwed. I felt almost as trapped as someone in one of my games did. Was that what it felt like? Feeling like an ignorant mouse cornered by a cunning cat? One that knew something that the mouse didn't? Oh, that feeling was awful.

I no longer cared that the woman was in Australia. I was sending gangsters after her to do something horrible like chop off her fingers so she could never text me again. She was going to pay dearly for that. Maybe I could call her dear lesbian girlfriend and tell her about the lovely night we had had a few weeks back.

Shizuo shifted slightly, leaning closer to me. Deep brown eyes looked to me now and I swallowed nervously. I did not dare to let my discomfort show on my face. My heart raced and I blamed the caffeine that I had just ingested. "So, let me get to the point. What is this about you secretly being attracted to me?"

I felt redness color my face and I cursed my genes. "Excellent question! I have never heard of this before." Oh God, why was he so close to me? I wanted to get up, run across the room; but that would be too obvious. A calm appearance was important. He couldn't know. He couldn't know. I couldn't let him know. My body betrayed me. My breathing was uneven. My muscles were tense.

"Izaya, it's obvious."

"What's obvious?"

"You like me. Just look at you now: your face is red. Last night you said I was attractive and your face turned red twice, for no reason—"

"I had been drinking. What happened last night is not a valid example."

"Your face would have stayed red if it was because of the alcohol; you were blushing. Not to mention that you get so defensive when Sasha's pushing your buttons by saying you like me. No one would be so flustered if it wasn't true. You're attracted to me, admit it," the blonde man's face no longer maintained that arrogant smirk, the one that I was supposed to have. He was serious, looking into my eyes and waiting for my response.

Maybe…maybe I could turn this around on him. It was worth a try. He had backed me into a corner and I had no other means of escape. I put my finger to his forehead and flicked him lightly, as if he was nothing but a pesky insect. "Maybe you just _want_ me to be attracted to you. This is all a fantasy you've created in your head because you're the one attracted to me. Sorry Shizzy, you're not my type." Should have toned down the number of times I used the word 'you.' It sounded more defensive than I had intended it to.

The imbecile continued to give me that weird look. Shizuo was winning. God damn that man. He had me. "Izaya," he said, "I know."

"Well you are incorrect. I'm not attracted to you." Saying the words out loud and looking him in the eyes made my head go cold, and it wasn't from my damp hair. My heart knocked painfully against my ribs. I did not want to be attracted to the Neanderthal. I did not want to be attracted to Shizuo. "I think you'd better leave. I just remembered I have an 11:00 client," I lied terribly.

"I didn't know you could be such a bad liar. You talk like a robot," Shizuo commented and stood up, his hand barely brushing against my side when he did. "But I might as well go before I cause you to have a conniption over the fact that I'm right. Thanks for the coffee." He turned, a light smile on his despicably handsome face, and showed himself out.

Against my better judgment, I didn't try to stop him. He was right. I was both attracted to him and I could feel an oncoming mental conniption. Frankly, I was amazed he knew that word.

XXX

I canceled all of my appointments for the day. I was Izaya Orihara, I could do that if I wanted to. My crisis over my sexual identity had taken priority. I refused to be in the living room because it was the last place I saw Shizuo. The place where all the trouble had started. I locked myself in my bedroom, shutting the blinds and enclosing myself in silent darkness.

I didn't want to be gay. Being gay would be like an atomic bomb on my reputation. No one would respect me, at least none of the people I dealt with. I'd be scorned. Homosexuality was forbidden in my field of work. When most of my clients were mob bosses, gangsters, drug dealers, thieves, or total psychos, the thought of me being gay would make me appear weak in their eyes. Which could not be farther from the truth. It's a horrible connotation that society makes with homosexual men; they're weak, they're emotional, they're pretty little fairies that talk with a lisp and discuss What Not to Wear like it's international news, and then they go home to sleep with a man. Being a small person, most would assume that I'd be the submissive in the relationship (a notion I didn't believe in) which just made the matter worse. It was ridiculous that people thought that in a homosexual relationship, one is always the dominant and the other is always the submissive. Was it like that in heterosexual relationships? No. That is, if it was a functional relationship at all. Socially and sexually, in my mind, there is no such thing as a dominant and a submissive. Just two people who work together in whatever way was best for them. Call me a hypocrite or a romantic, but a relationship should not be about power and control. Though I rarely practiced that belief, it was still a nice thought. It should be about making each other happy, helping each other learn more about themselves, striving to make the chaos in life a little more bearable. So what if I was smaller than Shizuo, so what if he was physically stronger than me? If we were to ever have a relationship, those factors did not and should not label me as his bitch… But I digress.

The bitter truth was that I recognized that I was in denial. Was trying to be in denial. I knew for a fact that I was attracted to men, and as much as I tried to repress those emotions, they were still there. They were still there to haunt me, to taunt me… For several years I was able to ignore them to the point where they became dormant and no longer concerned me. But occasionally they would come to the surface, bang against the back of my skull and startle my heart. Make me want to indulge in human desire that I have strived to overcome.

I wasn't like most humans. I was stronger. My mind worked in a way unlike anyone else's. I could watch with a cold heart as someone took their own life because of my cruelty. I could watch people run around like headless chickens in a scenario that I had planned. I could watch as people fell like helpless flies into my spider web with no hope of escape. Power over humans turned into both an obsession and a weakness. I couldn't have the same power over myself to control my own emotions, to manipulate myself into the mold of God-like perfection as I so passionately dreamed. I sympathize with Lord Byron, who said that the greatest tragedy of man is that he can conceive perfection while he cannot obtain it.

And Shizuo! Of all people, Shizuo had control over me! With simple knowledge he had me at his mercy! My realized attraction to him had caused me to slip. To let him gain the upper hand. A turn of events I would have loved if it wasn't my sexuality that was in question. No, my body had betrayed me, my own thoughts had betrayed me, my need for more power had betrayed me... Hell, my desire for more power was the only reason I had continued talking to the woman at all, to potentially get more information on that gang, and it had backfired like Operation Eagle Claw.

The human desires within me were difficult to fight. There was part of me that loved my solitude, loved the fact that I was independent and did not have to rely on anyone for anything. Most of all, no one truly relied on me outside of business. There was another part that wished to have companions and confidents, to be able to trust that someone had my back. That wished I was not totally alone. Not that these problems would be solved if I could open up about my sexuality to myself. No, nothing would change for the better.

I stared at the ceiling in my bed with no desire to get up. I pressed a warm pillow to my face until I couldn't breathe; then I threw it across the room. It hit the mirror over my dresser, knocking it over, and shattering it. How ominous. Isn't there a superstition that breaking a mirror means seven years of bad luck? Well, that was just about as factual as one of those chain letters that said a homicidal clown would appear over my bed if I didn't forward it to twenty-seven people. I wasn't superstitious, but nonetheless, the reflective shards of glass on the carpet made me feel uneasy. I would take care of it later.

Logically, I knew there was nothing wrong with being gay. It was just a small genetic difference just like every other one that separates individual human beings. Yet I couldn't escape the preconceived notion that it would ruin my reputation, which is one of the most powerful tools I possess. I could not be open about it. Izaya Orihara being asexual was fine by the world. It gave the impression that I was too worked up in my own matters to be concerned with a partner. Izaya Orihara being straight was fine as well. It showed my masculinity and the fact that I had desires. I could get pretty much any woman I wanted if I worked at it. But Izaya Orihara being gay… That would just be laughable. I would be mocked and ridiculed rather than feared and respected. It would possibly put flashing lights on the already sizable target on the back of my head.

My sexuality would remain a secret. I wanted it to be kept under wraps, but because of that goddamn woman, the idea that I might be attracted to men was ingrained in the mind of the simpleton. He knew. He saw the guilt on my face. If he told a single soul then the word would spread like fire on gasoline, igniting my reputation along with it.

After all I had done to him, what was stopping him from doing so? It would have been so easy just to whisper the words into the ear of a gossipy girl have it travel all over town before lunch. Maybe he had already done so and the rumor had already drifted into the ears of the people of Tokyo while I sulked in my room. Had I made a mistake in kicking him out so soon without properly defending myself? How could I have slipped up like that?

There was very little to be accomplished by sitting in a dark and desolate room. I needed to do something. Something to protect myself from being found out, to protect my reputation. I needed to talk to Shizuo. But if I made a slip up in my conversation then everything could be over. And that was a very valid concern, considering how my day was going. Maybe I could talk to someone who knew Shizuo well, see if he was the sort to spread rumors. Celty or Kasuka. Finding Kasuka could end up like a snipe hunt but Celty would most likely be home. And she knew Shizuo just as well as Kasuka would, or so I assumed. They did spend a lot of time together. Celty it was.

XXX

"Izaya, you make me very nervous when you sit there. Can you please get down?" Shinra almost stuttered. He held his hand out as if he would have to catch me at any moment. He had taken advantage of the unbearable heat and was sunbathing with Celty on the balcony of their apartment. The sounds of cars below barely reached our ears and the sun was at its peak, its light bouncing off of every reflective surface. Fortunately for me, I had remembered sunglasses.

I leaned back on the railing, trusting the strength of my abdomen to keep me from falling into the traffic several stories below. That would be messy and not exactly the way I wanted to die. "Nope, I think I like this view." He clutched my ankle and I laughed at his concern. I guess Shinra counted as a friend. A friend who was slightly terrified of me, but still a friend. Not the sort of friend that I could talk about things with. More like a long time acquaintance. Sure, I knew a lot about him, but he knew practically nothing about me, like my thoughts and beliefs. Just my bad side, which seems to be the only part of me people recognize. The idea that I could be a nice, trustworthy person was incomprehensible to even people I've known for years. Yet I knew if I choose to spend some time with him outside of business that he could become the sort of friend that I could confide in. Like a real friend. But I think I already ruined my chances of him ever completely trusting me. Such is the life of an informant. Not a soul trusts me.

"Don't!" Shinra protested. He stood up and grabbed my shoulders as a gesture for me to get down. "Geez, Izaya, you're going to get yourself killed one of these days. Although fall victims tend to make decent organ donors, I still don't want that to happen."

I would never donate my organs. They were mine and served to function in my body only. I did not care if some poor soul had cancer and desperately needed my kidney; they would have to look elsewhere. Even if I was offered millions of dollars, I would not do it. However, I obliged to his original request and sat at the end of his lounge chair.

Shinra settled back into his chair and eyed me carefully, as if he expected me to make a sudden ninja leap back onto the balcony. Once he had decided that I had no intention of doing so, he took a sip of water and allowed his eyes to drift to Celty, who was reclining on the lounge chair beside him in a small black bikini.

She tapped into her phone a message only meant for Shinra's eyes. I assumed it had to be something about me but I decided not to address the fact that it was rude to exclude a guest from a conversation. I was an uninvited guest, but still a guest.

"Izaya, not to sound rude or anything, but why did you decide to drop by? Not that I mind your company at all, I mean, I'm glad you stopped by. But wh—"

Celty hit him lightly and he whimpered pathetically but jokingly. He sometimes wasn't the most tactful person, but he at least made an effort. Not that it counted for much. He would talk himself into his grave if it wasn't for someone constantly stepping in and shutting his mouth.

Might as well cut to the chase; the only thing I had to lose was precious time by sitting and socializing with them. I had a mission. I figured if Shizuo had told anyone it would have been either Celty or Shinra. Possibly both. "I have something to discuss with you regarding Shizuo," I began, watching their reactions. Neither of them seemed too surprised by that. "He knows something that I really don't want him to know. What do you think the likelihood is that he'd tell someone?"

Shinra furrowed his brow. "I don't think he'd tell anyone."

Celty held her phone out to me. _"Shizuo is not the type to give out information. I wouldn't stress over it."_

"What if it was something that could, you know, have the potential to do a great deal of damage to me?" He could ruin me. For obvious reasons, I couldn't tell Celty and Shinra what the problem was. The purpose of the meeting was to keep word from spreading about my little crush. Though they could probably be a lot more helpful if I told them, I couldn't. They would judge me if they knew. Possibly look at me differently. Laugh at me. And because I had done a fair amount of cruelties to them, they would at least be tempted to tarnish my reputation by spreading the word about my sexuality. I could not have that. It was what I was trying to avoid!

The Dullahan typed on her phone again, _"Did something happen when you were helping him move? Did he say anything?"_

"How'd you know I helped him pack?" That hadn't even been twenty-four hours ago. It just went to show that Shizuo spilling information about me was not out of the realm of possibility. Well, didn't that just contradict what they just told me about him not being the gossipy sort? Perhaps they didn't know Shizuo as well as I thought they did.

It occurred to me that I had just made another mistake. If Shinra and Celty were useless in this situation, they were made aware that there was a situation at all. That would lead them to question me. Ask me things like what was I so worried about, what did Shizuo know? Maybe they would ask Shizuo and he would tell them. Shinra couldn't keep his mouth shut. Well, I could figure out a means to silence them, but it was a scenario that I would have rather prevented. I probably should have just locked myself in my room all day until I was done being an idiot. Everyone has those days where everything they did just failed: socially, intellectually, physically. I was willing to bet I'd get roundhouse kicked by Chuck Norris on my way back to my apartment. He was the one man that could truly defeat Izaya Orihara. Now, I very rarely had those days but I was starting to think that day was one of them.

Either that or I was just being ridiculously paranoid. But I admit to minor paranoia on occasion, especially when I was dealing with a formidable opponent. With that bit of knowledge about me, Shizuo had turned into just that.

Celty informed me that she had been told shortly after I had left the previous night. To give validity to her statement, she opened the text from Shizuo with the dated November 4th, 8:34. She must have sensed that I was stressed and not ready to trust anyone's word at the time and she was most definitely correct. _"Shizuo: weirdest thing just happened. Izaya just came over for 2 hrs and helped me pack the living room. Dumbass forgot his phone and knife."_

Could Shizuo call me a dumbass? I did not think he was entitled to call me that until his IQ reached at least room temperature. And he was a stupid eunuch. A stupid eunuch who knew that I was gay. I reiterate, I really _really _did not approve of that situation.

_"He didn't say anything else because I was busy when he sent it and never got back to him,"_ Celty added.

I ran my hand though my hair and set my palms on my knees. I needed to get out of there. Though Celty and Shinra were typically pleasant to be around, I was wasting my time with them. I could have been working on a new plan to get Shizuo to keep his mouth shut. "Since ten o'clock this morning, has he told you anything interesting?" I asked.

Both of them shook their heads.

That was a good sign. Unless they were lying. Doubtful…

"Well, thank you for all your help but I need to get going now." I had an idea. It would involve me sacrificing a bit of my pride, but I saw few other ways out of it. If I did something horrible to Shizuo, he could not only get out of it, but it would greatly increase the risk of him telling all of Tokyo. And that could not happen. Under any circumstance.

_"Are you sure you're okay?"_ the headless woman asked.

"You can talk to us if you want," Shinra added in.

I went to the sliding door at their balcony. "I'm feeling great actually," I smiled perfectly to conceal my lie. I could feel my stomach twist and turn. My heart beat at the thought of what I was to do.

I showed myself out after telling them that I would see them around. The street outside of their apartment was crowded with people on their lunch breaks, wandering every direction with a purpose. I turned left without much thought as to where I was going. The new plan I had formulated had consumed my thoughts. It was complex in its simplicity. In a rare instance, it was me who was at stake in one of my ideas. I could get hurt on a deeper level than physical pain, and what was worse was that my reputation was at stake.

Taking a breath to mentally prepare myself, I pulled out my new cell phone, the one I had picked up on my way over to Celty's and Shinra's (thankfully, Shizuo had been right about the SIM card being fine) and I shifted through my contacts. I passed over the woman's name and selected Shizuo's a few contacts down. I pressed the 'call' button.

The phone rang once and my heartbeat quickened.

The phone rang again. I wanted him to pick up before I lost my nerve.

Before it could ring a third time there was a light click. _"Hello?"_ a familiar, deep baritone voice answered.

About time. I took another breath, "Hey, it's Izaya. Are you busy tonight?"

The voice chuckled lightly, _"What, you want to go on a date?" _

I frowned and my face felt hot. I breathed an awkward laugh at his comment. Why did he have to make my plan harder than it had to be? An old lady I was walking past gave me a strange look and mumbled to her older companion. Why wasn't that lady mummified? "Not at all. Just answer the question."

_"I'm not busy,"_ he said.

"Great!" My face was red. I could tell. So much pride being sacrificed there. What I intended to do when I met with him... "Meet me outside of the Meiji Shrine at ten o'clock tonight."

_"Why there?"_

"Lesser chance of people seeing me. It's important."

I could practically hear his smile. Idiot. _"Okay, I'll see you then. Bye Izaya."_

I swallowed nervously, "See you, Shizzy," I closed my phone. That dreadful feeling. Had I made another mistake?

**Authors Rambling/Groveling: If you find the Notting Hill reference, I will write you a request. A oneshot obviously but I don't think anyone will notice it XD**


	5. Chapter 5

**Authors rambling/groveling: SORRY THIS CHAPTER IS LATE! I wanted to post Saturday night like I usually do but life caught up with me. I had soooo many tests last week and I just didn't have the time to write.**

**Not to mention that this chapter was a bitch and a half. Izaya, why are you so bitchly? Why?**

**Read people!**

Thousands of tiny, distant, lights from the skyscrapers and apartments of Tokyo cast a faint yellow hue on the black night. No stars were to be seen but the moon, full and bright, shone stronger than any man-made illumination, casting a cerulean glow over the trees and the dirt pathway. There was no wind to rustle the leaves or to make the old trees creak, but they seemed to do so anyways. Perhaps I was so surrounded by them that I could not feel the wind. Hot, thick air enveloped the city despite the fact that the sun had set hours ago.

A giant Torii gate loomed over me like the proud symbol the Shinto religion it was. I wasn't a religious person, but the shrine and the area surrounding it were both beautiful and serene. And serenity was much desired. The past few hours had been filled with nothing but worried paranoia because of Shizuo. Maybe the peaceful aura of the place would rub off on me, calm my nerves, make it easier to execute my plan. Such a simple idea, such a simple plan; if I wasn't the one who had to do it. Kids did it all the time, so did some adults. But me? It was an exceptionally rare occurrence. I almost always got my way, so when I didn't, when I was in the position of weakness, when I was the more vulnerable, I had to resort to methods that for me were unconventional.

Stupid Shizuo.

Stupid woman.

Stupid me.

I lurked in the shadow of the Torii gate and leaned against the sturdy wood. My new phone lit my face from underneath which made me look like ghost. It was almost ten. Shizuo should have arrived at any minute then and I was impatient. I wanted to get the meeting over with and get on with my life. There was no blackmail I had against Shizuo that would affect him in the slightest. There was no person that I could send after him that he couldn't defeat. There was no trap of mine that he could stumble into. Years of experience had taught him how to deal with me while I still struggled to figure out how to deal with him. It irritated me that I only had one idea that had the slightest chance of convincing him keep his silence about my sexuality: asking nicely. Izaya Orihara was reduced to asking nicely, and begging, if necessary. Bribery even! I didn't care! As long as he didn't tell a single soul! If I pissed him off at all there was a great chance of him telling people out of spite. Most of my tactics were swept off the playing board because of that fact; the queen, the knight, the bishop, the rook…all it left was a pitiful puny pawn. I had to use that single piece to the best of my ability, make a queen out of it.

The phone vibrated and I looked at a text from the woman. Great, just the person I wanted to talk to. I didn't have time to deal with her nonsense. I read the message anyways to pass that unbearable, anxious wait. _"Sasha: I think my new roommate wants to kill me. I'm just waiting for her to drown me in Kool-Aid or choke me with watermelon..or fried chicken."_

I snorted despite myself. Horrible racist jokes. Don't get me wrong, I have never supported racism. However, I was not so uptight that I couldn't appreciate racist humor so long as it was harmless. _"Izaya: I'm sure she just loves you."_

"_Sasha: That would make sense! I'm like you and she's like Shizuo! I'm mean to her because it's fun to piss her off and she hates me because of it! So deep down, we love each other!"_

Really, she had to bring up Shizuo? _"Izaya: You're hopeless." _I checked the clock on my phone, noting the Shizuo was four minutes late. Where was that man? I did not have much patience. Not in that situation at least. Not when it was my reputation at stake. Not when I was just waiting to make an attempt to correct a mistake. A slip up on my part.

The phone buzzed. _"Sasha: You're even more so.-sings- Hopelessly devoted to Shizuuuu :D"_

Bitterly, I knew she was right. I kicked a rock as if it would relieve some of my frustration. The past two days, no, the past three weeks had been spent constantly thinking about Shizuo. Shizuo this, Shizuo that. What would Shizuo do if that happened? I wonder what Shizuo thinks about this? Does Shizuo think at all? Is he like an aquatic sponge? Does he like aquatic sponges? Does he like Spongebob? Does he know what I wumbo is? I wumbo. You wumbo. Wumbology, the study of wumbo? It's first grade stuff. I doubt anyone knows what I'm talking about…

Small stones clattered and my heart jumped at the unexpected noise. Heat flushed my face and I swallowed nervously. This was it. I put my phone in my back pocket without responding to the woman. I approached the blonde man, who still walked towards me with a steady and even pace.

"Izaya," he said easily. He stopped when there was about meter between us.

Why did he get to be the calm one while I had to be an emotional wreck? Wasn't the opposite typically true? No, there was no time to worry about that. I had a mission to accomplish. There were matters more important than wondering about the differences in our mental states. I sighed, "Shizuo. I'm just going to cut to the chase."

He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. "By all means," he mumbled with the cylindrical roll of tobacco between his lips. Gross.

I stared at my shoes; they made me less nervous than the man in front of me. "Don't tell anyone," I said simply.

"Tell anyone what?"

My shoes were failing to be a good distraction from the handsome blonde. I really was hopeless. What was wrong with me? And he wasn't asking a question because he was stupid. Oh no, he knew exactly what he was talking about and he knew that I was at his mercy. Damn him. "You know what I'm talking about, Shizzy. Don't play dumb."

He chuckled and pinched the cigarette between his fingers, taking it from his mouth and holding it at his side. "That you have a giant crush on me?" he said with a low voice.

I averted my gaze to search for any people who may be lurking at the shrine so late at night. Not a soul in sight. "Yeah, and just the subject in general." I wasn't about to say the words 'I'm gay' to him. Even those words, the ones I did utter, were said so quietly that anyone farther away than Shizuo could not have heard, not that there was anyone there. However, it was still an admittance to someone who might actually care. I felt like I was going to be sick. Never in my life had I felt more vulnerable. Queasy and uncomfortable. I let my breath out slowly. Waiting. Waiting for his response. I was prepared to beg for his secrecy if I had to.

Silence. He watched me for a moment then gave a soft sigh. "Izaya, I'm not going to tell anybody. Don't worry about it."

Naturally, I didn't believe him. I kicked at another gray rock lightly but didn't know what to say. Yeah, me, at a loss for words. My head felt cold despite the late night heat. My heart continued to race as if it was trying to escape my chest through my throat and butterflies fluttered in my stomach. "How do I know you'll keep your word?"

He was quiet for a moment again. "How about if I tell you something. If word gets out about you then you have free license to tell about what I'm going to tell you, and vice versa," he offered. His voice seemed to have lost some of its confidence.

"Depends on what that is." What if he told me something stupid like 'I like chicken nuggets'? I couldn't make blackmail out of something like that. It would be of no use to me. Not to mention dumb. Then again, he was such a simpleton that he probably didn't know the difference.

He didn't answer immediately and stamped out his cigarette so he could stuff his hands in his pockets. It was a nervous gesture. It allowed me to assume whatever he was going to say was good information. If he was nervous about telling me that he liked chicken nuggets then I would have seriously judged him. Maybe he was going to tell me that he was a eunuch, and then I could tell him that I already knew and proceed to be punched repeatedly.

Shizuo said two words. "Me too." He averted his eyes when I looked at his face for the first time purposefully. The moon's dim glow and the shade of the towering trees on either side of us did nothing to hide the color that had come to his face.

Oh God. I felt my eyes widen and my lips part slightly. Was…was he serious? Wait, I was jumping to conclusions too quickly. No, I couldn't be. There was only one thing that he could be saying 'me too' too which was… that he was in a similar situation as me. Though, not necessarily the best word choice but the message got across just fine.

In an instance of weakness, I doubted hearing and my understanding. "You what?"

He shrugged awkwardly and kicked the same stone I had kicked. "I realized a few months ago, that I—" He forced a smile as if it would make things less awkward. It was ineffective.

That he was gay? That he was gay for me? Wouldn't that be a lovely coincidence? That we, enemies locked in a seemingly endless feud for the past decade, both happened to be secretly attracted to each other. Could that really happen? Possible, but not likely. Extremely unlikely in fact. Taking a risk, I attempted to finish the sentence for him, "that you're attracted to me?" I tried hesitantly.

"Yeah," he said softly, almost with difficulty. He let out a shaky breath. "So if word gets out about you, you can let word out about me. Deal?"

Heat rose to my face and I joined him in smiling awkwardly. Except it wasn't all awkwardness, not on my part at least. It was tinged with a bit of joy as well. Never in my life would I have guessed that not only I would I have admitted, to his face, that I had a crush on Shizuo Heiwajima, but that he liked me in return. It was a special kind of joy, the kind that causes butterflies in the stomach and the heart to flutter. It was silly, giddy even, that feeling. So human.

I could count on one hand how many people during my life time had legitimately liked me, in a romantic sense. And out of those few, I had only reciprocated the feelings of one, a kid I met in high school. But I'm not going to go into that story, it's for another time. How did that even happen? It was so surreal. Shizuo, who I've treated like Hera treated anyone who crossed her; driving him insane, making his life miserable, setting him up for failure…how could he possibly be attracted to me?

I put my hands in my pockets as well and took a step back, and turned on my heel so my back was to him. I walked a few feet. "Have you been here at night before?" I called over my shoulder. I could talk to him about details later possibly. There had been enough stress for one night.

His steady footsteps followed me. "You didn't answer my question. Do we have a deal?"

"I thought that went without saying. Yes, we do."

He moved so he was to the left of me and we passed under the Torii gate. "Good. I'm not completely ready to let too many people know," he told me.

I raised my brows. "Do some people already know?"

He shrugged as if it was no big deal. "My parents, Kasuka, Tom, Celty, Shinra…and now you. Though only Celty and Shinra knew that I was attracted to you in particular." he laughed lightly, "They were judging me."

"This situation _is_ pretty weird," I smiled to try to keep the conversation light. "Is that why Celty was so adamant on me trying to be nice to you?"

"Was she? I didn't know about that," he chuckled.

"She was." Needed to change the subject. I felt as if I was treading closer to dangerous territory. "So how's moving going?"

"Got most of my stuff at the new place but it's not unpacked yet. Everything it just kind of crowding the living room and bedroom. Shinra and Celty are coming over tomorrow to help me start unpacking."

"Where are you moving anyways? You didn't tell me the first time I asked." I knew he hadn't trusted me with that information the first time I had asked. Then again, the first time I had asked, I was still trying to convince myself that I hated him, and he was being cautious of me.

His eyes glanced upward in thought. "Between Ikebukuro and Ueno. I needed a new place. My old one was falling apart, and the elderly couple next door filed about thirty complaints about me." He smiled as if he was amused by what he had said. I could definitely see why people would complain about Shizuo, breaking walls and doors and throwing washing machines and all.

"Makes sense. Do you like the new place?"

"Eh, a little fancy for my tastes. It's Kasuka's old place actually. It's a long story but we worked out a pretty good deal with the landlord. It has a nice kitchen and a big bedroom," he commented and for some reason I imagined the statement had a dirty undertone. Why was my mind in the gutter?

We walked to the closed entrance of the shrine and just talked along the way. No threats, no fighting, just simple chatting. He told me that he had realized a few months prior, in August to be specific, that he did not hate me. That he found me attractive. When I asked him why he continued to try to kill me every time he saw me, he simply told me it was because he was mad at me. Not for what I had done to him in the past, but because he did not want to be attracted to me. Coming to grips with the idea for him was as difficult as it was for me to wrap my mind around the idea that I was fond of him. My life was not the same without him as I had learned in the few weeks I did not see him. I told him that, that I sort of missed him when he told me to get out of his life, and he laughed. I laughed too. Here I was, talking about feelings and emotions with a man that I had convinced myself I hated. It was weird.

We left the shrine after about half an hour but we did not go directly back to the familiar parts of the city. We lingered at the exit without saying anything. We looked at each other, both of us trying to figure out words that came so easily just a few minutes earlier. I did not know where our relationship stood. We were both gay. We both liked each other, oddly enough. Was that not the strangest coincidence? Maybe there was a hint of truth to what the woman said about hate just being misguided love. Not that I loved him. Of course I didn't. That would be far too soon. I was still trying to get used to the fact that I was even attracted to him after all the times he tried to impale me with a traffic light.

A faint buzzing disrupted the silence. Shizuo sighed and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small black cell phone and holding it to his ear. "What is it, Shinra?" he said gruffly.

Odd. Why was Shinra calling him at eleven o'clock at night? Wasn't he usually in bed? I remember back in high school when I would occasionally spend the night at his house, he was always out like a light at ten. He was a heavy sleeper too. I could probably recreate the paintings of bare-bottomed angels in the Sistine Chapel on his face without him waking up, although usually I wasn't that ambitious and settled for a Hitler mustache (or a Charlie Chaplin mustache if I were to be politically correct) or an octopus simply because I like them.

Shizuo's brows drew together and he frowned. Could not be good news. Either that or it was disturbing news, or some other negative adjective. No matter what it was, Shizuo obviously did not like it. "Oh, okay Shinra. What time do you think… you don't know," he gave a frustrated sigh. "I'll figure something out. No, why would I do that? I understand. Bye." He flipped the phone shut and put it in his pocket.

"What was that about?" I asked, mostly for the sake of conversation, but also to satisfy my curiosity. I did not want my conversation with the blonde man to be over then. I had enjoyed talking to him. Well, I had always enjoyed talking to him. Whether it was with harmful or innocent intent, it didn't matter.

He blinked as if he was surprised by the question. "Oh, just, Shinra," he said vaguely. Of course I understood. Shinra indeed. Shinra was Shinra. Shinra did Shinra things. Things that were so Shinra. Yep, completely understood. He looked to me suddenly with more interest. "Izaya, I need a place to stay tonight."

"Are you suggesting that I let you spend the night at my house?"

"Yes."

I raised my brows playfully, "Shizzy! Don't you think you're moving a little fast? I mean we just admitted—"

He punched me lightly and shook his head, smiling. "Izaya…"

"Were you supposed to stay with Shinra and Celty tonight?" I assumed. Neither of his apartments seemed adequate for residence at the moment. It made sense.

He sighed. "Yeah but they want to be left _alone_. At least Shinra was courteous enough to give me warning."

I chuckled at that. So unfortunate. But I got to spend more time with Shizuo as a result. Oh, the woman was right, I was hopeless. My natural desire to be near him, to talk to him, to laugh with him outweighed my forced wants that told me to be cruel to him, to keep him away. Those ill intentions were still there, they didn't leave just because I realized I was attracted to him. Part of me still wanted to hurt him, but the other part wanted to make him happy. "Well, I don't mind as long as you're out of the house by eleven, I have to meet with some clients tomorrow."

He sighed with relief, as if he had thought I would have said no to his request. It was midnight, where was he going to find a place to stay at such a late hour? "That shouldn't be a problem," he said, looking at me with an expression I couldn't decipher. A light smile and soft brown eyes gazing at me.

My face went red again.

XXX

We didn't get to my apartment until almost midnight since we had decided to walk. People gave us weird looks, obviously, because we weren't trying to kill each other. I almost wanted to run away before anyone started to assume something was going on, but at the same time I wanted to continue talking with Shizuo. I prayed that Erika didn't see us. It would be a dream come true for that crazed little fan girl. But to make things less awkward, we agreed to split up, planning to meet inside my apartment building. There would be fewer people out and about there.

People didn't seem to care when I was walking alone. It was expected of me to be alone, to look like I'm plotting something, and to have a little smile on my lips. I didn't want to be alone. Hell, if the city were empty then I would be walking beside him. But alas, there were people. People who would judge me. Judge me and ruin my reputation. If I wanted any sort of relationship with another man then it would have to be in utter secrecy to protect myself and my image.

I breathed in the city air. I would hate to leave Tokyo. It was my home. People that had seen me or had heard about me didn't think I was capable of love. That I was nothing but a dark, heartless matter bent on destruction and misery. But I loved Tokyo; the sights, the sounds, the air, and most of all the humans who inhabited the beautiful concrete jungle. I never wanted to leave, not permanently at least. That was why I needed to protect my reputation. Without it, what was I? Depending on how things would happen, depending on the reactions of the dangerous and close-minded people that I worked with, leaving Tokyo was not out of the realm of possibility.

Was it even worth it? For me to admit to Shizuo that I was attracted to him? I was only lying to myself again. The relationship, if there was ever to be one, was doomed from the beginning. There was a reason we hated each other. Albeit, I didn't know what that reason was. But it existed. There was a reason we had been at each other's throats for a decade. Those feelings couldn't just die. Not so easily. What the hell was I supposed to do? The entire situation was confusing to me, and I was hardly ever confused by anything. Was I supposed to just forget the years of torment of threats and injuries just because I realized that I had a big gay crush on Shizuo? What did he think of all of that? He would have been catatonic if he had half the thoughts that were running through my mind! How he was handling the situation was a mystery to me. Was he just going to forget what I had done to him? Just like that?

I turned down an alley, knowing it to be a shortcut to my apartment. I started to wonder just how valuable Shizuo was to me. He was far from the most important person in my life, but he was significant enough that life was less enjoyable without him. Was he worth my reputation? I should have just dropped the idea, should have gone back to the way things were, should have stayed pleasantly in denial. I should have…but I didn't want to. That new game was exciting, terrifying, but exciting. What's more was that I could have a chance to not be alone. To have a friend. That one soul that I could trust. My chance to have that…it almost seemed important enough to risk my reputation. For years I have yearned for a companion, but was it really wise to thrust that desire onto Shizuo? It was foolish, I knew that, but it felt right.

I didn't have to figure it all out then. I had time. But for the moment, everything had to remain a secret. With the exception of my last slip up, I was good at keeping secrets.

I hopped a fence at the end of the alley and within a couple of minutes I was at the lobby in my apartment building. Ken, the old man at the front desk, was asleep on a stack of papers. Good, that meant he wouldn't see me go upstairs with another man. That could have been taken the wrong way.

Shizuo arrived about a minute later, telling me that he had been held up by some creepy people. Things hadn't gotten violent but they had been weird.

"There were two girls and a guy asking if I wanted to join some sort of group called The Ends," he said when we stepped into the elevator.

I pressed the button for my floor and the door slid shut in front of us, locking us together in the cramped space. That pleasant piney scent still emanated from him. "The Ends are a new gang in town. I don't know what their up to yet," I told him. I probably should have gotten in touch with that Australian informant again. He seemed to be quite knowledgeable about the inner workings of that gang. It was more complex than a regular street gang, but not so organized that it was like the Yakuza or Mafia.

He rubbed the back of his muscular neck, "They were very laid back. One of the girls just walked up to me and just very sweetly asked me to join. The guy added in that they could use more people like me. I said 'no' and instead of getting mad they just told me to have a nice evening and walked off as if nothing even happened."

The elevator opened and we stepped off. I didn't want to talk about the gang, not until I had more knowledge about them. Maybe it was time for me to finally start asking the woman some questions about her little group. Or I could call that lovely informant with the name I can't remember, maybe he would be willing to give me some more free information.

I locked the door to my apartment behind us and kicked off my shoes. "I have dibs on the couch. You're going to stay in my room, no arguing that," I told him, watching him untie his shoes so he could take them off easier.

He shook his head, "No, I'm intruding and it was nice enough of you to let me stay over on such short notice. I'll sleep on the couch."

"Nope, you're the guest."

"Izaya."

"Yes?" I looked at him as if I had lost track of what we were talking about. The idiot was not going to make me change my mind, no matter how handsome his face was. He would not sway me.

He breathed a resigned sigh. "Fine," he agreed and set his shoes next to mine. He had big feet and his shoes dwarfed mine. I felt small again. Even winning one little friendly argument with him didn't make me feel any stronger. Maybe I was just tired.

"Want me to get you something to sleep in? I'm pretty sure I have something that would fit you," I said. Jeans were not very comfortable to sleep in and I felt obligated to keep my guests as happy as possible.

He smiled, "I doubt you have anything that would fit me, flea." Small bloodsucking insect joke again, though that time it seemed to mainly connote the fact that I was smaller than him. Five inches at most, Shizuo, it wasn't _that_ much of a difference.

"Actually, I think I do. My grandmother sent me some pajamas for my birthday a few months back and they were too big for me so they might fit you," I said. I motioned for him to follow me upstairs since I had to show him where my room was anyways.

"That's a weird thought," he commented.

"What is?"

"Nothing." His steady footsteps were behind me. He was probably referring to my grandmother. Most people don't think of me having much of a family, like they thought I just emerged from the water like Aphrodite to cause trouble from the start. Well, sorry to kill that little notion, but I did have a family that I cared about. Sure, I didn't like Mairu and Kururi half the time but wasn't that normal of siblings?

I flipped the light switch on the left of my doorway and paused. There was something shimmering on the carpet below my dresser. I had never cleaned up that mirror I broke that morning. Shards of reflective glass were scattered on top of and around my dresser, the frame was still on the floor where it fell. Well that was a little embarrassing. "Oh, great. Sorry about this."

"So you did have a conniption," he smirked.

I furrowed my brow, but was not about to admit he was right. "I had the window open, a bird flew in," I lied. What? It could have happened. Judging by how weird my day had been, I wouldn't have been surprised if a crazed Dorian Gray had come into my room in a spandex Superman suit and punched my mirror out because he hated his reflection. Checking to make sure the area was clear of sharp objects, I sat down to carefully start picking up shards of glass in front of me.

"A bird?" he said skeptically, kneeling next to me to help with the clean up. "I think my conniption theory is more likely."

"Well your theory is incorrect. A bird flew into my room and smacked into the mirror," I reached for a trash can next to my dresser and put it between us. Glass clattered when I discarded those shiny pieces into the bin.

Shizuo hummed in thought. "If a bird flew into your room, wouldn't there be feathers?" he pointed out.

"Shizzy, do birds just spontaneously drop feathers everywhere they fly?" I asked as if he was the one being ridiculous.

He shrugged, "Okay Izaya, whatever you say," he said, making it very clear that he didn't believe me. I didn't feel like arguing with him. I was tired.

I stared at the blonde man's reflection in the glass. A broken reflection, some showing only parts of him, others showing miniatures, and yet others showed both of us. It reminded me how broken my thoughts were about him, how little I actually knew him. I could see pieces, just not the whole thing. "Shizuo," I said with an air of seriousness.

He dropped a few pieces of glass into the trash can. "What is it?" he started picked through the carpet to tweeze out a few smaller pieces.

"What do you want to do, regarding me and you?" I wanted to get to know him. I wanted him, just Shizuo. So badly, I wanted him. More than any other person. "I mean, we're both attracted to each other so do you want to…" I lead off, hoping he would know where I was going with the statement.

Brown eyes met mine with that soft gaze that made me want to look away but at the same time made me want him more. "Let's hang out and see what happens. I think it's too soon to be figuring all this stuff out," he said reasonably.

I nodded in agreement. I opened the bottom drawer of my dresser and pulled out a pair of dark blue cotton pants that still had the tags on them, "You think these will work?" I asked, holding them up.

"Just fine," he said. I tossed him the pants which he caught easily.

"Why don't you go get changed, and I'll clean up the rest of this? There's not much left. I'll vacuum in the morning," I told him.

He agreed and went off to the bathroom to change. I swept the glass off of the top of the dresser and into the trash bin, being careful not to cut myself in the process. I patted the carpet lightly with my foot to see if there was any more glass to pick up, and, feeling nothing, I set the metal bin back in its original spot.

The door to my bathroom opened. "I'm amazed, they fit," he commented, pulling at the loose fabric as if to emphasize that he even had extra room.

"Good, you can keep them," I said, deciding not to comment on how the pants actually looked very flattering on him, especially the backside. Why did my mind have to go there? I needed some sleep. "I'll see you in the morning, Shizzy," I wanted to touch him, give him a simple pat on the shoulder or something, but I refrained from doing so

"Goodnight, Izaya."

"Night," I closed the door to my room behind me, went downstairs, and turned off the lights. I didn't want to think about the complexity our relationship any more that day. I could figure it all out later. Give it time, Izaya; precious sweet time will tell. After all, so much had happened in such a short period of time. A single day. The warmest November fifth in Tokyo's recent history. Oh yes, I would remember the fifth of November. Not for the gun powder treason and plot, there was none of that (I must admit, that would have been exciting. Though I would have most likely been Guy Fawkes, and that fate was not particularly appealing to me). The date and the broken mirror were certainly ominous, but again, I wasn't superstitious.

**Author's rambling/groveling: Did I mention this was a short chapter too? Oh, my friends said that I should have footnotes to explain all the random stuff that Izaya references/alludes to. Let me know whether or not that's necessary :)**


	6. Authors Note

**A/N:**

**Hey readers!**

**As you know, I haven't updated this fic in a really long time. Life happened, college happened, etc. you all know the story. **

**Well, depending on how many people are still interested in this, I was thinking of continuing this story. It'll take me some time to get back into the grove of it (I haven't watch Durarara in almost a year) but I really enjoyed writing Izaya's character and liked the plot of the story. However, there was a plot problem that I never really sorted out and this is where you come in!**

**Scenario 1: This one is more dramatic and emotional. The Ends gang gets a bigger role and Sasha would make a physical return in the story. But my issue with this one lies in the fact that I would probably have to bring in another OC who could mentally be on par with Izaya (otherwise the Ends wouldn't pose any sort of threat), which risks the pointing fingers say "Look friend! I have found a Mary-Sue! Burn the witch!" because, let's face it, Izaya's probably the cleverest cat Tokyo has ever seen. I would try my best to keep things Izaya and Shizuo centric but for this scenario to work, the OC's would need some reign. **

**Scenario 2: This one is more comical and heartfelt and silly. It mostly keeps Sasha and the Ends in the background and they never really do much of anything other than serve as comic relief or some mild internet drama. There would be Izaya and Shizuo fluff but my problem with this scenario that I think it'll get boring quickly. **

**So "dramatic and romantic" vs. "silly and cute" is what this boils down to. Keep in mind that Izaya's narration won't change so no matter the vote (if any) he will still be musing and overthinking everything in a way that will hopefully make you laugh. **

**So either leave a review or PM me with what you prefer **


	7. Chapter 6

**Author's rambling/groveling: First off, I would like to apologize if these two are really out of character. I haven't watched DRRR in a year at this point so take some of this with a grain of salt. Also I no longer have a proof-reader so if anyone would like to be mercilessly spammed with the chapters before they come out then feel free to PM me.**

**On a side note, if I actually named chapters this one would be in entitled "The part in which Izaya doesn't know shit."**

**Also, it seems that the votes leaned more towards the romantic/dramatic scenario so I'll do that and the new OC is introduced in this chapter. (Well, technically, he was introduced in chapter three but I doubt anyone remembers him). I'm hoping the general feeling towards him is "this guy is such an ass" or "I hate him" but not in the "this person can't write" sort of way. Again, I try to make these characters as real as possible. **

**Also, I added in footnotes for Izaya's random references.**

**I AM SINCERELY SORRY FOR ANY TENSE ISSUES OR WORD OMMISSIONS OR ANY GRAMMATICAL ERRORS. I READ THROUGH THIS FOUR TIMES, I TRIED MY DEAR READERS –sobs- **

**Enjoyyyyy?**

Blank ceilings were never fascinating. They were even less so at six o'clock in the morning when I wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. I was not exactly sure why I woke up in the first place. Judging by the beads of cold sweat in my hair and dripping down my forehead and my heart pounding quickly in my chest, I must have had a nightmare. Strangely, I did not remember any of it. Whatever happened in it must have played upon my deepest fears so I automatically suppressed the memory. There were very few things that legitimately scared me but those things were so rare that they were hardly ever a concern of mine. To be more accurate, I was scared of two things: losing my senses and the few people who could call themselves my equal. I was not even sure if those people existed but surely I could not be alone. There had to be someone out there who was just as, if not more, powerful than I was. Whoever that person was, they were terrifying.

I had a tendency to remember dreams that played upon those types of fears. The dreams that focused on things that just made me uncomfortable were quickly tossed away. Perhaps that was what the dream was about, one of my really stupid fears. Yes, I too am irrationally afraid of some silly things. Maybe all the food in the world had been poisoned except for mayonnaise and mustard. If that were the case I probably would have committed suicide in my dream before dying from asphyxiation. Dying, that was definitely something scary enough to wake myself up.

I folded my hands on my stomach and took a deep breath. I rolled over on the couch to look out the window. I was not sure why I did not look there in the first place because it was far more interesting than the stark white ceiling overhead. It was still dark outside. First rays of orange light were starting to creep into the sky, just enough that there was a light glow on the horizon but not enough to completely chase away the darkness. Stars had long since departed for the oncoming day but the moon still lingered in the sky. A full moon, people say that the full moon could drive people to madness. After all, that's where the word "lunatic" comes from, it derives from the word _lunaticus _which means "of the moon" or "moonstruck". Maybe that's why the previous night went over without too many mishaps. Shizuo and I were under the influence of the moon. Moonstruck by each other's presence and pacified by all of the confused emotions between us over the past few weeks; it resulted in temporary civility.

Rubbing my face, still damp with sweat from what I deemed to be a mayonnaise-centric nightmare. I tried to focus on other things. I had a client to meet with at 11:00AM, which should be a relatively short meeting, and then another to meet with at 1:00PM, then 2:00PM, then 5:00PM for a dinner, then another at 7:00PM. Why did I cancel appointments just so I could mope over my sexuality crisis? That was really stupid of me. Again, I blame the moon. The moon is at fault for everything. Lunacy, that's what this whole situation was: utter lunacy. At least the imminent crisis of my sexuality being on the front page of Toyko's newspapers was temporarily averted. Not to mention the numerous online blogs and articles. Dear god, word would be out in fucking Nebraska by noon. I still was not sure if I could completely trust Shizuo in that subject matter. Something about that oddly calm aura he had been emanating since that visit to my apartment to look for the woman. I still felt like I was trapped. I had yet to figure out any escape routes that did not involve violence against the blonde brute.

I gave up on the possibility of going back to sleep and went to the computer. Once my mind was awake it was awake for the day. I opened all of my chat logs and checked my emails. Nothing of interest. However, the Dollars website was buzzing. Some gang violence had broken out within the past few hours. Apparently an older member of the Ends took on a few of the Dollars and single handedly knocked them out. There was no further injury and no one really knows who that person was or how the conflict started. The Dollars members involved just said that they started to advance on the person (it was a woman) because she was lurking suspiciously close to a meeting spot. It seemed the conflict was initiated by the Dollars and not by the unnamed woman. Mikado just advised that the Dollars kept their distance from the Australian based gang until further notice. I made a brief post about the Ends supposedly not being dangerous to the Tokyo gangs. At least, that was what the woman and that weird informant I had talked to told me a week ago. I would need to update my information. Outdated material could be deadly.

A small blue and white box popped-up at the bottom corner of my screen with a little chirp. The woman's name was plastered in the blank space with a small notice that read 'online'. What a coincidence.

'_Sasha: Heyyyyy Izaya! Video chat? =)' _A new message at the bottom of my screen read. I opened the chat box so those annoying pop-ups would cease.

Why did the woman want to talk at this hour? She was usually just going to sleep at this time, despite the time difference between Australia and Japan only being about fifteen minutes. I glanced up towards where my room was. Could Shizuo hear me? Probably not, given that I naturally spoke quietly while in my own home. I wanted to ask her a few questions. If I could see her face I could better discern the validity of her statements. I doubted that she would avoid conversation about the Ends altogether. However, it was more likely that she would answer me face-to-face.

I quickly typed a response, '_Izaya: Give me a second to find my headphones. I'll call you.'_

_ 'Sasha: YES!'_

The draw squeaked quietly when I opened it and I looked up towards the stares as if I could immediately tell if that noise woke him up. I shook my head and found my headphones among the jumbled mess of pens and various chargers and staples. Why did I have three staplers? Whatever. I wasn't about to do anything with them. I detangled the wires of my ear-buds before pushing them into my ears and plugging them into the computer. I pressed the call button on Skype and waited for the woman to pick up. The video screen popped up in an instant.

"Izaya!" she greeted with a grand gesture! Her hair was shorter than when I last saw her, almost like a military buzz cut. She seemed skinnier too: skinnier but more muscular, if that made any sense. A she wore a loose, gray tank top and no make-up. She must have just woken up. "Whoa, you're better looking than I remember! Is this the first time we video-chatted?"

"Well, it was a busy night. I'm sure you just didn't get to appreciate all of me," I said with a cocky smile. I loved it when people complimented me. I lived for compliments. Not really, but it was rare that people actually gave me a genuine compliment out of the blue. "You look, different?"

She gave a boisterous laugh. "You mean 'manly'! I'm pretty butch now, look at these guns!" she flexed her arms and, just as I suspected, her muscles bulged and I could see some dark veins under her skin. "Got a promotion of sorts so I've been changing up my look and hitting the gym. Got to let the boys know who the boss is! I actually shaved my head before I even left Tokyo, a Yakuza guy grabbed my hair and I couldn't let that happen again."

Good, she was already steering the conversation in the desired direction. Less work for me in that aspect but it made me question her motives. Maybe she needed information from me like I needed information from her. It sounded like a fair trade but I would have to test the waters first, make sure I wasn't getting into an endless boiling pot instead of a lukewarm bath. Though, there wasn't much harm she could do to me (or vice versa) through the computer screen. Frankly, she did not seem to be the type to go completely out of her way to. She was not the planning type, she was a doing type. "You were dealing with Yakuza when you were visiting?" I repeated back to her, hoping that she would continue to elaborate.

She waved a dismissive hand. "It wasn't a big deal, kind of a misunderstanding really. One of the newbies got all up in a tizzy when he saw me but the boss sorted things out. I wasn't mad, he wasn't mad. So no harm, no foul."

"What business did you have with them? It's dangerous for one lady to go into depths of Yakuza territory all alone," she really was not being the most informative. I had to try to get to what I wanted to without seeming like I was digging. Showing some concern for her general well-being was a good way of doing that, right? Even if that concern was faked she did not have to know.

The woman shrugged and picked up a box of Cheerios from beside her desk and shook a couple into her hand. She tossed a few into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. She looked up and to the right: visual remembrance, I noted. At least her body language was telling me that she was going to be honest. "Well, that's kind of a long story. I thought you of all people could have figured it out, it really wasn't all that important," she shrugged and chuckled a bit, "maybe that's why you couldn't dig up anything about it."

Please, I could find out what brand of toothpaste someone preferred if I wanted to. Like Shizuo preferred the spearmint flavored Colgate brand. Was it creepy I knew that? I should have used a different example other than Shizuo. Erika likes cinnamon flavored Aquafresh and Shinra uses an obscure medicated toothpaste because he has sensitive teeth. I have access to dental records and that boy has probably had a cavity in all of his teeth at least once. I should probably stop rambling about teeth… for the record, I actually have one fake tooth but no one can really tell. Shizuo did manage to land a hit every so often. "I didn't put much effort into finding anything," that was a lie.

She flicked another Cheerio into her mouth and shrugged again. "It's really not a big deal. Daddy disappeared a while back, I have full control of the gang now, and my girlfriend is blood related to some Yakuza. The Ends have always been closely affiliated with the bigger and more prominent gangs, but mostly in here in Australia and some parts of Europe. I guess I was trying to get a footing in Asia as well and that seemed to work out pretty well. If the people who are reporting back to me are being honest, and they should be, the Ends are spreading like wildfire in Tokyo. I only brought about fifteen recruiters with me, so any more than that are newbies," she poured another handful of cereal, "just trying to spread our influence, you know the story, why?"

I opened up the Dollars site again and made another post asking if anyone knew about how many Ends there were. There were definitely more than fifteen, I knew that much, but due to recent events I had not delved too much into that territory. "Just curious, really, there seem to be some pretty skilled people in that group of yours. One of yours got into a fight with a group called the Dollars here and knocked them all out," got to give a little information sometimes to get more. It was an uneven trade but I could probably keep the woman talking.

Her eyes widened slightly, "Really? They're not supposed to be getting into fights there yet. I told them to lie low."

"Oh, she didn't start it," I assured. Mentally, I focused on the word 'yet'. So there was a plan to create violence in Tokyo. Fun. "What—"

"—Yo, Sash, I let myself in!" There was another voice in the women's dwelling that I could faintly hear.

The woman's eyes widened and she turned around quickly in her chair, completely ignoring me. Who was so important that she could do that without as much as a 'hold on a minute'? I was one of the most powerful and feared people in Tokyo and I did not like to be interrupted or ignored. "Hey, Nairo. I didn't expect you."

Nairo…Nairo…why did that name sound familiar? A name like that should not sound familiar considering that it was very unusual. I thought retraced my memory, trying to think of where I could have heard or read the name 'Nairo'. I remembered; that was the name of the Australian informant I got in contact with when I was trying to dig up information on the woman and her gang. For some reason, I had convinced myself that it was Nico.

A tall man entered the room with tan skin and dark hair, looking to be of some sort of mixed heritage, wearing a suit. He looked as if he was about to say something then he seemed to notice the screen and quickly approached the monitor. "Why the hell are you talking to him?"

"Nairo, it's not a big deal, he's a friend," the woman defended. Her body visibly tensed.

The man sneered and his hand approached the keyboard. "He has no friends—" the woman's screen went black. I stared at if for a second. What just happened? I saw the woman go offline and I furrowed my brow. Well that was ominous.

I sat back in my chair and took out my earphones, staring at the monitor. I watched the chat logs as various Dollars members made commentary on the inquiries I had posted. Most seemed to be more lost than I was. Was there something going on right under my nose that I had no idea about? What was this Nairo character up to? I sent a message to the woman, _"Izaya: What happened?"_ and set the phone on my desk. I ran my hands through my hair and exhaled slowly. My chest felt tight. There was something big going on that I should have known about. Why hadn't I dug deeper to find information about the Ends? Or find one of them myself and get them to talk? Maybe I should cancel all of my meetings again to do some investigative work… no, I couldn't do that two days in a row. I needed to get paid somehow, after all.

Whatever was going on did not seem to bode well for me. At least, it did not bode well for me yet. It was a simple fix really and I could have every member of the Ends cowering before me just like any other slightly intelligible gang member who had the privilege of residing in my city. Find a weak link and exploit them for information. There were plenty of people I knew that would be more than happy to help me extract information from these Caucasian invaders. Whatever the situation was, I could turn it around given that I had the tools I needed at my disposal. And I could get those tools if I just made a few phone calls and spent a couple of nights on the shadier side of the streets. Despite this reassurance, there was something that seemed off. I could not quite place it.

My cellphone vibrated and I quickly answered. Two text messages. That was weird, my phone alerted me only once. There was an expected text from the woman and another from an unknown sender. I opened the one from the woman first, '_Sasha: Let me try to smooth things over with the asshole. Don't text me, I'll text you.' _Great, another super informative response. Why was she only a chatter-box when it was something unimportant? If I said something about sushi, she would go on and on about how much she loved fish. I later learned that her love for fish was some sort of lesbian sexual innuendo. If I said something about going for a walk, she would go on and on about the possibility of seeing Shizuo. Oh, and then she would send me text messages of entire songs. And not in mp3 form, she would type out all the lyrics. But when it came to a strange man interrupting an important conversation she was suddenly at a loss for words. Bitch. Despite my ranting, I knew the truth will eventually reveal itself, I just had to be patient.

I scrolled to the other unread message from the unknown sender. My eyes widened and I could feel my body betray me. _'Unknown: You might want check on Shizuo. Where is he? Upstairs, sleeping in your bed? Shirtless? Maybe wearing your clothes? Dangerous game, Izaya. I have eyes and ears everywhere.' _My heartbeat quickened and the back of my head felt cold. Who was this person? My gut instinct that it had to be the man who turned off Sasha's computer, the one called Nairo. What kind of name was that anyways? And how did he know about Shizuo? Well, that wasn't the exact question. How did he know that Shizou was in my apartment? Even if he did have "eyes and ears" everywhere, there was no way there could have been someone stalking me all the way to my apartment with either me or Shizuo noticing me. Cameras were also impossible since I knew where every street camera in Tokyo was and I was always wary about who and what lingered around my apartment. What was going on? There were too many questions and I needed to figure out the answers before I lost even more control of the situation.

Pocketing my phone, I went to the door of my apartment. I twisted the handle and it gave easily. Unlocked. Had I forgotten to lock it the previous night? No, impossible. I hadn't forgotten to lock the door since I was a child. I could distinctly remember going to the door and locking it just before settling down on the couch. The back of my head felt cold. Now, calm down Izaya, it was not a big deal. Maybe Shizuo had left in the night and I just hadn't heard him. Though I was a very light sleeper, hence the reason why I had my apartment thoroughly sound proofed, I _should _have heard anything that entered or left my apartment. They would have had to walk directly past where I was sleeping. I had to go check on Shizuo.

I took the steps two at a time not caring that I was a little louder than I should have been considering that Shizuo was probably still asleep. I stood outside my bedroom door and listened. Nothing. I pressed my ear to the door, being careful not to make a sound. Nothing but the blood pulsing in my ears. There were a few explanations that immediately came to mind but only one seemed highly likely to me: he was still asleep and I was being paranoid. What sort of game was this Nairo guy playing at? And from Australia no less! I know I had a lot of enemies but I did not think I had a connection to him. I had to find out more, but there was the immediate problem of my apartment to attend to. Priorities. I was letting this get under my skin more than it needed to be. I had dealt with far worse. It was the uncertainty that cause my mind to cave in upon itself like that mine in Beaconsfield: if I did not somehow get myself to a safe place I would be remain trapped in that darkness that envelopes ambiguity (1).

With some care, I pushed open the door and I felt the heat of my room on my face. I made a mental note to get my air conditioning checked. I opened the door slowly: it was better to proceed with caution. Normally this sort of thing was exciting for me but not when I had something at stake. It was exciting when it happened to other people, or when I was the only one involved, but not when it happened to interfere with my life. After the previous night, when I had that talk with Shizuo and I admitted my feelings, I had left myself exposed and vulnerable. I did not want something to happen to Shizuo whilst he was in my apartment. All of the developments in our relationship over the past few weeks would be nullified. Shizuo and I would start from ground zero, or worse.

Shizuo was on my bed, sleeping peacefully. He had taken his shirt off and thrown it on the floor along with the thick down comforter, most likely due to the warmth of my room. I crept closer to get a better look at him. Breathing. Well that was good. At least I did not have a Shizuo corpse on my bed. That would have probably raised a bunch of questions, I would be the primary suspect, and it would be a complete fiasco that I honestly had no time to deal with if I hadn't already scheduled it into my day. I turned to the window and opened it to let some fresh air into the room. I should have told Shizuo to keep it open at night so the room stayed cool but it had slipped my mind with all that had been going on. One a side note, I really needed to stop letting myself use that excuse. I had a mind that worked in ways that was beyond most individuals understanding, it should be able to handle a busy day and not forget little things like reminding a houseguest to keep a window open or lock a door. Any dumb things I said I did, for this day, were purely the result of the full moon and I could take no responsibility. Damn lunacy.

"Izaya," bed sheets rustled behind me and I turned around. Shizuo rolled onto his side and stared at me without lifting his head, "I know this is your apartment, but what are you doing?"

I shrugged and quickly tried to figure out a suitable answer. "I was just checking to see if the AC was working in it. It's been on and off for the past few days," I started for the door, "I just opened the window and I'm going to call a repair man. Go back to sleep, Shizzy." Crisis avoided. Well, not that there was going to be a crisis, more like an awkward situation. Actually, that situation was kind of awkward. Nevermind. Nothing was avoided. I was starting to think that maybe I was starting to catch the stupid, though I recognized that notion was highly unlikely. After all, a famous scientist from Texas claimed that 'stupid' is not a disease (2). Maybe it could spread if and only if the host was a eunuch. That must be it.

Just as I put my hand on the door to pull it closed behind me, I could hear the sheets move when Shizuo sat up "Izaya, why were you hovering over me?"

I stopped. Shizuo Heiwajima, apparently a professional fake-sleeper. How long had he been awake? "Hovering?"

"You were standing over me for probably three or four minutes."

"Was I?" That had to be an exaggeration. Sure, I took a brief moment to admire his physique but I definitely was not standing next to him for more than thirty seconds. His body was impressive to say the least. The last time I saw him shirtless was in the boy's locker room at school and at that time he looked like everyone else: skinny. Now it seemed he was able to eat enough to build muscle that seemed proportional to his strength. There was nothing but muscle under lightly tanned skin, skin that seemed to be entirely absent of any natural blemishes but was adorned with more scars than Ares(3). I noted that I was responsible for some of those scars. There was the one across his chest, the stab wound next to his left hip, two on his upper ribcage… how the hell did this man stay put together? It was almost as if I was gazing upon an attractive version of Frankenstein's monster. I made him that way. My stomach churned uncomfortably with some sort of negative emotion that I couldn't decipher. I just knew I didn't like it. I almost wanted to touch the scars but I refrained. I felt warm suddenly. I could feel blood rushing to my face. Stupid AC. That was when I decided to open the window.

Shizuo's brown eyes just stared at me, "you were up to something," he commented. "Just because we had a couple of decent conversations with each other doesn't mean I completely trust you," he added reasonably. I did not except him to trust me. It was wise of him to be cautious of my actions. I barely trusted me.

I rolled my eyes dramatically, "I wasn't up to anything, Shizzy, geez."

"Then tell me what you were doing," he challenged, with a bit of smirk. Oh god, he knew that I was checking him out. Sort of. Maybe I was standing there for five minutes ogling him. Though that was never my intention to check him out while he slept, that was a little creepy even for me, I just wanted to check to make sure that he was one hundred percent "okay". I debated whether or not to tell him about the ominous message from the Australian bastard (he did not have an Australian accent if I remembered correctly. It was distinctly American). Correction, the American bastard. How did he know that Shizuo was in my house? And more importantly, how did he know that Shizuo was wearing my clothes and that he had taken his shirt off? The blinds were closed so there was no way someone could have looked through the window (this is assuming that they somehow possessed a strong pair of binoculars and a high perch). Was there a camera in the room? Not likely. I would check later anyways.

I sighed, thinking of the consequences of _not _telling Shizuo about the American bastard. The worst case scenario was that he'd get angry at me for withholding information and it could potentially get him hurt. That would damage that bit of a relationship and the minuscule amount of trust he and I had been able to forge. If I kept it to myself then he would be oblivious to the fact that there was a problem at all. However, it was still highly likely he would find out anyways. If I told him then he would just be aware of the problem. He might still get angry at me and, given his tiny intellect, he would somehow blame me for the problem. Which wouldn't be entirely incorrect but I did not like it. Damned if I did and damned if I didn't. I looked at his eyes, eyes that suddenly seemed concern rather than playfully mocking. He realized that something was wrong.

I scratched the back of my head and approached the bed. I sat next to Shizuo, being careful not to sit on his legs. "There was a complication that I was trying to avoid," I began. First step to establishing trust between people: honesty. My heart beat uncomfortably. Maybe I should go to the doctor to get my heart checked. I'd make an appointment.

"Izaya," Shizuo said firmly.

Sighing again I looked at the floor. "I got a rather ominous message from a member of the Ends this morning regarding you," I admitted, agreeing that it was better for me to get straight to the point. "The door to my apartment was also unlocked even though I remember locking it last night," I met his eyes, hoping that the rest did not need to be said. I did not want to say 'I got worried and came in to check on you because I would hate to lose the only person who could hold my interest for more than ten minutes'.

He seemed to understand, "What did the message say?" he adjusted himself sit in a more comfortable cross-legged position. His hands dangled above his ankles with his elbow on his thighs. I took my phone from my pocket and he craned his muscular neck to get a look at the message. I watched his face carefully. His brow knitted together and he scratched his shoulder. "I didn't take my shirt off until probably three in the morning," he commented, "and I don't know how they would have known that I was wearing your pajamas. Do you have any idea who it is?"

So if someone entered my apartment, they must have done so in the past two or three hours. "I think it's someone who works with Sasha, a guy by the name of Nairo," I said and pocketed my phone again.

Shizuo raised his brows, "One of the girls who was trying to recruit me last night mentioned that name. She said that he liked my 'reputation'."

"Do you know if any of them followed you?"

Shizuo shook his head. "I would have noticed unless they were somehow more elusive than the people you've sent after me," he made the comment without any bitterness.

I frowned. I wanted to hurt him but I refrained. Why did he seem so at ease with all that happened between us in the past? It was just as if he let it go. Poof. All water under the bridge. Sure there were a few straggling remains of our past relationship; him not trusting me, him thinking that I was always plotting, etc. However, it seemed as if Shizuo's mind had deleted most information like they were irrelevant computer files. I needed to get into his head. "This is so weird," I commented quietly, not really sure of what else to say.

Shizuo seemed to be just as confused as I was. He awkwardly fiddled with his hands and looked around the room. "I think this Nairo guy was just trying to scare you," he said.

I rolled my eyes. Duh. "Excellent deduction, my dear Watson," I tried a smile so he knew that I was just playing with him.

He laughed lightly, "Well what's our course of action now, Mr. Holmes?"

"Our?"

Shizuo shrugged. "I'm involved in this somehow—"

I stood up again, shaking my head, "Shizzy, no. I'm not getting you involved in this—"

"I'm already involved—"

"You could be less involved—"

He grabbed me unexpectedly and pulled me backwards. My back hit the bed and I stared up at his face, that oddly calm face. "Whoa, Shizzy, a little rough, are we?" I teased, still blinking in surprise at his reaction.

He ignored my comment. "Izaya, I know you're used to acting alone when it comes to these sorts of things—"

"That's because no one is competent enough to—"

He clasped a hand over my mouth. He was awkwardly hunched over me in that cross-legged position. A childish temptation to lick his hand emerged but I decided against it. I didn't know when he last washed his hands. He could have been touching himself. Ew. Note to self: bleach bed sheets. "Izaya, just hear me out," I frowned, knowing that he could feel my lips even if he couldn't see them. I could have easily gotten myself away from his grasp but I chose not to. I was too curious. I wanted to hear what the beautiful blonde man had to say. Maybe the more I listened to his words, the more I would begin to understand his mind. I mentally slapped myself. Listening to him was such an obvious component in figuring the puzzle that was Shizuo Heiwajima.

Shizuo lifted his hand from my mouth and placed it in his lap. His brown eyes never left mine when he spoke. "Izaya, I know things are still weird between us—"

I rolled my eyes and was tempted to compliment him on the absolute brilliance of that statement. He seemed to understand my unspoken sarcasm nonetheless.

"I know you probably already thought of all of this because you're you but I'm going to say this anyways. Obviously, somehow someone saw me come here last night. Somehow, someone got in here last night and observed my exact state without either of us noticing. I think the door being left unlocked was intentional. He is trying to scare you and show you that not only can he have people break into your house, he can have people get close to you and to me. I think he was working under the false assumption that we are more than just… whatever we are—"

"Shizuo, are you suggesting that he was trying to do that cliché movie crap? You know, the bad guy threatens someone close to the main character so the main character will give them what they want?" I said with a deadpan expression, almost hoping that the tone of my voice made him feel stupid. Wait, no, I didn't want that. Fuck. I did not want to piss off Shizuo. I did not want to piss off Shizuo. I repeated the mantra in my head. Even if he was stupid, I did not want to piss him off.

The blonde man did not smile. He just stared at me, "the bottom line, Izaya, is that I don't want to be left in the dark if there is some psycho out there who is clever enough to get the best of you. Especially when that psycho is after me as well—"

I jumped to my feet, holding my hands up defensively, "He definitely hasn't gotten the best of me. Not even close," I smiled, "this is chess and he just made the first move."

Shizuo dragged his palm across his face, looking frustrated. Well, that was to be expected considering that I completely acknowledge that I did not really care much about his opinion in the matter. Granted, I was going against my previous resolve to listen to him but I felt that it did not apply when it came to work matters. "This might just be a game to you, but it's not to me," he said with what almost sounded like desperation in his tone. He held out his hand and looked at me expectantly. I hesitated and stared at his hand for a few seconds. Leaning over, he grabbed my hand anyways with a firm grip. What the hell was he doing? "Izaya, I want to help with this. This guy is dangerous. If he knew about you and me, then he definitely knows about other things. I don't want people to get hurt," he released my hand. "He probably knows where my family is and your family. If there is any way I can help, let me know or at the very least keep me informed."

I frowned. "You have a lot to say once you get talking," I breathed out through my nose. There really was no downside to what he was suggesting. Even if there was I could easily work behind his back and effectively keep him out of the situation. "Fine," I agreed shortly, "on a trial basis" I added for good measure. What was the harm in keeping in touch with Shizuo? If anything, it was an excuse to study him more. Maybe get to know him.

Maybe it could be fun.

**Author's rambling/groveling: Also because you readers are beautiful, here's an outtake for this chapter. I was going to have a silly scene in which this actually happened but I couldn't figure out how to fit in in because it's not really relevant. **

**OUTTAKE: **

_Sasha: I found your theme song, Izaya! :D (I'm you, by the way. These are your thoughts)._

_ Sasha: I threw a wish into the well, Don't ask me, I'll never tell, I looked to him as it fell, and now he's in his way._

_ Izaya: Stop._

_ Sasha: I'd trade his soul for a wish, pennies and dimes for a kiss, I wasn't looking for this, but now he's in my way!_

_ Izaya: I hate this song. Stop._

_ Sasha. HIS STARE WAS HOLDIN', RIPPED JEANS, SKIN WAS SHOWIN!_

_ Izaya: I hate you._

_ Sasha: HOT NIGHT, WIND WAS BLOWIN', WHERE YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING, BABY?_

_ Izaya: I promise not to hold this against you and forget this ever happened if you stop._

_ Sasha: HEY I JUST MET YOU! AND THIS IS CRAZY! BUT I CAN'T HATE YOU! SO CALL ME MAYBE!_

_Izaya: Oh god, you're still going. And I thought your Grease tidbit was bad (?). _

_ Sasha: IT'S HARD TO LOOK RIGHT, AT YOU SHIIIZYYYY! BUT I WANT TO HUMP YOU! SO GET YOUR PANTS OFF MAYBE._

_ Izaya: I feel violated. I'm not talking to you anymore. _

_ Sasha: WAIT! Okay, I'll stop. Damn, I had that all written out too. :(_

_**Footnotes:**_

Beaconsfield Mine Collapse: 2006 in Beaconsfield, Tasmania, Australia. A small earthquake caused the mine to collapse and while most of the miners were able to scramble to safety and escape, three were trapped in the mine. One of them died from the initial rock fall, the other two managed to survive for two weeks in total darkness whilst awaiting rescue.

"Stupidity isn't a virus, but it sure is spreading like one" – Sandy Cheeks, Spongebob Squarepants. I am ashamed to admit that I think Izaya has made at least three Spongebob references.

Ares: the Greek god of war. He is also tied to the male image. Although most of his depictions he is seen with a flawless body (like most Gods) he did participate in battles and get injured.


	8. Chapter 7

**Author's rambling/groveling:**

**This chapter is a doozy, but not as much as the next one is!**

**Izaya, you need to stop. Stop it. You're being stupid. YOU ARE BETTER THAN THIS!**

**Also, I know that they're watching American movies. Just, shhh. I don't know any good Japanese films (unless you count the Miyazaki films) that they might want to watch but I know American/British ones. **

**And a forewarning for self-harm. There's that in this chapter. But don't worry! There's some fluff as well! YOU GUYS FINALLY GET SOME FLUFF! OVER 40,000 WORDS LATER THERE IS FLUFF! IT EXISTS!**

**Read you beautiful people! Read!**

The Catalyst:

Chapter 7:

A sliver of artificial light crept through a gap in the thick curtains over my window and slithered across my bed. No light emanated from my room. It was only that dim glow of the city that I had fallen in love with. The citizens would still be out, chatting about their petty problems and fighting in the streets and fabricating drama in such an elementary fashion. The common man had not even the slightest clue as to who the true puppeteer was, the one that dangled even the Yakuza on a couple of thin nylon strings. I was the man who pitted gangs against each other like hungry pitbulls in a dark, damp basement. I was the man that single-handedly made the capital of Japan a battleground for wars of its youth. Youth that composed the next generation. A generation forever corrupted by gang violence and human cruelty. This was the city that I could watch over like an omniscient being. I could mold to my liking or to my moods. People gave their lives to me simply because I asked, simply because the words from my lips were listened to as gospel. I was the most powerful and dangerous man in Tokyo, and anyone who had been graced with my presence knew it.

Blood on the bed sheets. Shaky breaths. If I could not bring an end to the sticky black turmoil that bubbled in brewed within my own psyche, then the mind that managed to weave that delicate silken web over Tokyo would cave in on itself. Gasoline on a fire, my mind was just waiting for a match and it would all be over. How ironic it was that both Shizuo and the American bastard could have flicked their cigarette butt in my direction and ignited that gasoline. I clenched my teeth and breathed through my nose. My nails clutched at the skin of my forearms, tearing at the already open wounds I had inflicted upon myself. Too much stress. Too many mistakes. The pain in my arms helped me get out of my own head. To think straight. To think logically.

After and between meetings with my clients, I worked. I built up my web and filled in the holes that the Ends had poked in it. They were dangerous. More dangerous and organized than I ever gave the woman credit for. They were the wasps and I was a lone spider. My own ego got in the way of seeing what was in front of me: Sasha Jane Arrington, a leader trained from birth in the intricate inner mechanics of organized crime. A woman who had ties to the Yakuza, the Mafia, the Crips, the Bloods, the Hells Angels, whatever other gangs that existed. She probably knew a person who knew a person. However, she meant no harm to me. She had no intention of interfering with my business. No, she was going to make my business more interesting. Members of the Ends would affiliate themselves with other gangs: the Blue Squares, the Yellow Scarves, and the Dollars. They would get the members to accept them and trust them. Then they would take over the gang piece by piece until eventually, without even knowing it, the gangs were under the woman's control. That was why they were so peaceful and yet so dangerous. They wanted the gangs to want them. They wanted the gangs to recognize their value. It was risky but it worked. It worked like clockwork. There was a post around noontime on the Dollar's website talking about a 'defected' member of the Ends joining them. Well played, woman, well played.

However, I digress, the woman was not my concern just as I was not hers. She was fond of me, telling me that I was more 'pleasure than business' in that thick Australian accent of hers. It was the American bastard, Nairo, whose mystique tormented my mind like sharp nails on a chalkboard. I had spent a good part of the day researching every available data base: criminal, health, public records, anything for that man. Everywhere I searched led me to a dead end. Nothing was on record about him. He was as well concealed as I was and we both shared the same connection: the woman.

I scratched my arms and tore off a small piece of skin, opening a fresh wound. The American bastard had the upper hand on me. There was nothing I could do except wait for him to move his pawns across the board. Thinking about it only stressed me out more. I hated that feeling of helplessness, that feeling of losing control, that feeling of having some part of my life in the hands of a malicious stranger. If the woman was noticeably scared of him, then that should have been an indicator to me. He was an individual out of her control which meant he was stronger than her. Not only in the physical sense but in every other way. When the woman texted me back, claiming that she had smoothed thing over with the man, she refused to answer any questions regarding him. My only link had been severed.

A pale blue light flickered from my bedside table accompanied with a buzz. I reached for my phone, wincing at the pain in my arms. I tapped the screen and opened the text. _"Shizuo: Almost done unpacking my apartment. Celty and Shinra are here and they were wondering if you wanted to come over and have dinner with us. Just take-out. Probably Indian. We're going to watch some movies too because Kasuka left his old TV here. Let me know." _Even moving my fingers hurt. They hovered over the keyboard, waiting for me to think up of a good response. Shinra and Celty already knew that Shizuo had spent the night at my apartment. They were good people and I knew they would not judge my relationship with the blonde man, whatever that relationship was.

It hurt to press the buttons, but I typed out a response, _"Izaya: What time?"_

XXX

A cardboard box landed on the bed with a dull thud. I stretched my arms which stung from the self-inflicted gashes underneath the bandages I had wrapped around them. Blood was seeping through but I did not complain. No one could see it through the black button down shirt that was a little too tight on me around the chest. The sleeves, however, had adequate room and did not irritate the skin any further. The apartment was well air-conditioned so the hot night air did not make wearing a long sleeve shirt unpleasant. The heat wave was getting ridiculous. Eight o'clock at night and the air outside was almost eighty degrees. Maybe the weather forgot that it was almost winter.

I huffed and pulled my new switchblade from my pocket. Carefully, I cut the packing tape that sealed the box shut. Another box of clothes. I sighed and began to lift them out one by one, making sure not to allow them to touch my sensitive forearms. The ones that needed to be hung up were put on hangers and promptly put in the closet according to color. The ones that needed to be folded were and were organized via draws and color. Not that there was much color to Shizuo's wardrobe. I just tried to figure out which shades of gray, black, and white were lighter or darker. Occasionally there was some blue and green. There wasn't much difference between his wardrobe and mine. Weird. Maybe it was just a guy thing.

What the hell was I doing? There I was, in Shizuo's new apartment and helping him unpack his things. The era of civility has not even reached the twenty-four hour mark and yet I was treating him like an old friend. Not a foe. Not a man who had tried to impale with a variety of large and heavy objects. Sure, I had known him for years. That made me familiar with him, familiar with his presence, familiar with his general mannerisms. I still, however, did not really know him. I didn't even entirely know the thoughts that had gone through his pintsize brain over the past few hours.

He seemed at ease with me. Too much at ease, in fact. The way his voice was never raised above a socially acceptable volume, the way his shoulders slumped, and the way his face relaxed was unnerving. I would accuse him of planning something if I thought he possessed the mental capacity to do so. Alas, he did not. No, there had to be something else going on in his head. Something that said that it was okay that I was in his apartment, it was okay that I was going through his stuff, it was okay that I had my switchblade on me, it was okay that I was the same Izaya Orihara that made his life a living hell. There was more to it. There had to be. I was only looking at Pandora's Box. I would not know the evils until I opened it.

Speak of the devil, Shizuo entered the room carrying another box. He wore a pair of dark jeans and a gray wife-beater that fit him snugly. I tried not to stare by collapsing the now empty box. The cardboard slid against my arm and I winced at the unexpected contact. Shizuo did not seem to notice my expression, thankfully, and set his box down beside his bed. "How's bedroom duty going?" he asked, leaning against a white dresser. He put his weight on his good leg, I noted. His knee must have been acting up.

"Fine, almost done," I answered shortly. I sighed again. I wanted answers. I wanted answers before I even began another conversation with him. I wanted answers before Celty and Shinra returned from picking up dinner. I turned to face him, "Shizzy, pardon my impudence, but what's wrong with you?" I mentally slapped myself. That definitely could have been phrased better. A lot better. I did not think at all before I said that. What was wrong with _me_? I was letting my guard down and my heart was starting to show on my sleeve. At least a few neurons were. Oh well. It got my point across. It was bothering me the more I thought about it. I felt as though I was dealing with an entirely different Shizuo. At least, since that night at Meiji shrine I had been dealing with a different Shizuo. He hadn't tried to attack me. Not once. In twenty-four hours. It was unsettling.

Shizuo blinked at me. "Excuse me?"

I folded a pair of his pants and set them on the bed. "This whole 'calm' thing. You're not trying to kill me. If you think about it, we still don't even know each other that well outside of all the horrible shit we've done—"

He pushed himself off of the dresser and approached me with his hands in his pockets. "Izaya, I don't want to think about that. Can't we not dwell on the past and just keep going forward?"

"It's still something that needs to be discussed," my brow furrowed. Was he patronizing me? No, he wasn't. Relax, Izaya. He stated a request in the form of a question. No need to get more defensive than necessary. I was just going to be honest. Honesty seemed to be working with him lately. It seemed to work well with the woman too. I gave some real information to someone who was a 'friend' in a sense and received real information. Hopefully real information. They never showed any signs of falsehood at least. "Shizuo," I began tentatively. I was uncertain. Ever since that night with the woman my life had been nothing but a growing malignant cyst of frothy uncertainty and infectious paranoia. My avoidance of dealing with my emotions was what caused that cyst to form in the first place. It seemed that the best available remedy would be just letting it out in the open so it could be treated. The bandage would only make the skin rot if left on for too long. I sat on the bed beside the folded pants. It was as if the weight of the words that were running through my mind had rendered me incapable of standing. "I don't know what's going on," I admitted. My stomach tightened and I instantly regretted the words. I was showing weakness. Human-ness. I was above such things.

Shizuo shrugged and sat beside me. A nervous smile tugged on the corners of his lips, "I don't know either. To be honest, I've been thinking this whole time that you're going to jump and suddenly—"

"—shank you with a switchblade and run off like Bugs Bunny while you grab the nearest heavy object and try to hurl it at the back of my skull and then everything will be like old times?" I finished for him in one breath, speaking quickly. Somehow, the paranoia already seemed to thin. The knots in my stomach persisted. I let out a short laugh as if it would relieve some of the tension. It was ineffective.

"Exactly," he laughed. A genuine laugh, as if I had just said something humorous. I tried to picture myself as Bugs Bunny. Okay, that might have been a little funny, but nonetheless, it was still no laughing matter. Even if I was in a bunny suit I would be the most threatening person in the worlds to have ever worn a bunny suit.

"What's so funny?"

He smiled at me, "we're both idiots, that's what." He was so close to me that I could smell him. The sweet pine of his cologne and the freshness of his breath. Odd, he must have brushed his teeth before I arrived for one reason or another. Maybe he wanted to kiss me, or thought that was a possibility. No, I couldn't let my mind go there. Irrational. He probably just ate something that left a bad taste in his mouth. More logical. "What the hell are we doing anyways?" Shizuo continued, running his hand through his hair and the smile on his lips fading, "Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but we can't trust each other. At all. And yet we're teetering around, saying we like each other but at the same time we both think the other is up to no good. Does that about sum that up?"

It was my turn to blink. "Well, Shizzy, you always manage to surprise me," the pin brained gnat seemed to possess some sort of intelligence after all. I would have to make a mental note of this amazing revelation. Once again, I found myself desiring a specific font that indicated sarcasm. However, I would admit that was the closest I had ever come to giving Shizuo a compliment regarding his intellectual capabilities. I would never outright say that his assumption was correct. I had an intellectual superiority complex to nurture. "Listen, can we just get to the point?"

"That being?"

I closed my eyes. Why wasn't that obvious to the imbecile? I retract my previous statement regarding that miniscule intelligence quotient that Shizuo seemed to possess. False alarm. "What are you thinking, exactly?" I asked simply. Small words, Izaya, small words.

"I don't know, to be completely honest," he said. His face was neutral and he stared at the ground. The lack of eye contact did not make me question his sincerity, however. It was more like he was thinking about his response. I waited patiently for him to continue. His golden brown eyes glanced at me and he released a breath that he seemed to have been holding. "I guess," he started but then stopped. He scratched his head with both of his hands. Frustration. "Listen, Izaya, I—" his brow furrowed at his second attempt.

I could feel a tug at the corners of my lips. His frustration was almost endearing when it wasn't violent. Cute, even. I felt like I should say something but I decided against it. If I let him know my opinion then his might be altered. Simple minds tend to follow example and I did not want to skew my data. Maybe a reassuring statement. That could work. "It sounds like you're just as confused by this as me," I said.

He rubbed his face. "Izaya, I honestly don't know what I'm thinking. All I know is that I liked it when you weren't tormenting me. I'm just exhausted from that game we've been playing and I just can't handle it anymore," he looked at me a little solemnly. His eyes seemed shinier than usual. "I had three options really: either relocate to a new country, which I can't do financially, get you to leave me alone, or, in Celty's words, make you 'a positive addition' to my life. But when you were out of my life, I missed you. There's something about you in particular, I don't know what it is, but I'm trying Celty's plan."

I frowned. I almost felt guilty for putting Shizuo in such a predicament. Almost. My years of tormenting the man seemed to generally work in my favor. After ten years, Shizuo was surrendering. I had won. Wow, that was really anticlimactic. I was almost hoping that one of us would have died tragically at the hands of the other. That had the potential to happen nonetheless, it was too early in the new game to figure it out. "How is this working for you?" I asked out of curiosity, not because I really cared. Well, that was a lie. I did care. Somewhat. I wouldn't let him know that.

He shrugged, "I actually kind of like it. You're not bad when you're being…" he trailed off. My mind supplied the word 'nice' but I understand why Shizuo was apprehensive to finish that statement. If he did, he would most likely imply something that he did not intend to. If he said 'nice' then it would imply that I was otherwise mean. Which was true to him at least but since he was trying to be my friend then that would reflect poorly on him

"You don't have to finish that statement. I get it," the conversation was not going the way I wanted it to. It was too easy. There had to be something more, something that turned Shizuo from the incredible Hulk into just Bruce Banner. Something was missing. I would have to do some more digging.

"Thank you," he looked at me oddly. His eyes were like caramel, soft and sweet, with an even sweeter smile spreading over his lips. He seemed to smile more in general, I noted. Maybe this arrangement really was working for him. Maybe he really did enjoy my company. Why did he keep looking at me like that? He still had that dumb look on his face. Did his brain short circuit from our conversation and was permanently stuck in a, for a lack of better expression, 'durr' face? He stretched his long legs out in front of him and moved closer to me with the action.

Wait. Was he trying to hit on me? Was that conversation romantic or something? I did not think it was. What was he doing? It did not make sense. We were alone, in his room, on his bed, dim lighting, and emotional conversation. Oh no. "I guess it's only fair that I give my side, huh?" I said to get back on topic. Maybe I could manage to say something offensive and wipe that stupid expression off his face. Gee Shizuo, I really like you and all because you're the most fascinating person I have ever met and I just cannot figure you out however I really have a strong animosity towards blonde hair. And eunuchs. Since you possess both, I have my own issues to get over before I can even consider doing anything physical with you that does not involves fists and knives. Sorry! No. That wouldn't work. Fuck, he was talking.

"I think I want to figure you out for myself, I'm pretty sure I can handle whatever you can dish out," that dreamy look did not leave his face. Who did he think he was talking to? Prince Charming? Sorry to puncture the fantasy bubble, Cinderella, but I had not even made the slightest attempt at being charming. At all. I did not plan to. That was not part of the plan. The plan did not involve being charming. The plan involved figuring out Shizuo and my sexuality and not getting maimed by Yakuza. That was the current plan. Oh, and get back at the American bastard. Nope, did not see charming anywhere on that list. What was he thinking?

I did not want to stand up and put distance between us. That could be misinterpreted as discomfort. Well, I was uncomfortable with the prospect of Shizuo hitting on me, so it would actually be an accurate interpretation. That was beside the point. I had to keep on my cool façade and that meant not running away from Shizuo. After all, the last time I did that he read my text messages and destroyed my phone. Who knew what would happen if I repeated my actions. I settled for flopping back on the bed and folding my hands on my stomach. There, I put some distance between him and I. Sort of. My face was farther away at least. What was I doing? A less vulnerable position would have been desirable.

Wrong move. Mayday, mayday! Shizuo turned his body and rested his hand beside my ribcage, hovering over me. I made an unpleasant face. Just the ugliest face I could muster: frowning, sticking my tongue out between my teeth, flaring my nostrils, squinting my eyes, and furrowing my brow. He raised his eyebrows at the face and chuckled. A low, husky chuckle that adding blushing cheeks to my myriad of other facial quirks. "Attractive, Izaya," he commented.

"Duz dis thake kew phant meh lessh?" I said without drawing my tongue back into my mouth. It seemed my new strategy was to make myself as unattractive as possible. By the way, just for the sake of clarity, I said 'Does this make you want me less?' That shouldn't have been too difficult to figure out.

He leaned closer to me and pressed his nose to mine, "No," he replied simply despite my repulsive expression. I gave up on the face and watched him. His eyes were closed, trusting me.

I could feel his minty breath on my lips. I kept my expression neutral, "what are you doing, Shizzy?"

A warm forehead touched mine delicately. His golden hair hung over his face like a halo and tickled my hairline. "I'm just trying something, Izaya. You like experiments, don't you?" My heart beat faster. I could get away at any moment I chose, don't think for a second that I was trapped. My curiosity overpowered by apprehensiveness. What was Shizuo's idea of an experiment? What did he intend to do to 'figure me out for himself'?

I remained perfectly still. "What's the hypothesis of this experiment? What do you intend on finding out through…this?" I wanted to describe it as 'pinning me' but that was not entirely accurate. Nor was he laying on top of me or had me restrain in any way. He was just hovering over me with one hand on either side of my body, his face to mine.

Pulling away slightly, be adjusted his legs so his knees were on the bed, trapping me between his darkly clad jeans. He pressed his face to mine again and just breathed. His eyes were still closed. "I think letting the test subject know the experiment might skew my data," I felt his nose on my now hot cheek, just below my eye, "I'll tell you afterwards."

I turned my face away from his touch. His breath was on my ear, warm and even, and his cheek pressed to mine. "What's this experiment called? Be extremely weird to Izaya and see what he does?" I joked with a half-hearted chuck. God, he was so close to me. I was sure that my ears were starting to turn red from all of the blushing. My stomach twisted, my chest felt tight. I almost felt as though I was rendered incapable of breathing. My senses were overwhelmed by Shizuo: the pine scent of his cologne, his skin against my face, the sound of his breath, and worst of all, that golden blonde hair and lightly tanned skin that seemed to capture my attention entirely. His muscles moved gracefully with every inhale and exhale, every twitch of his finger, and every turn of his head. Such a beautiful man.

Shifting more of his weight to his left hand, he lifted his right hand to my face. Calloused fingertips ghosted over my cheek and my jawline. I concentrated on my breath and closed my eyes. "Are you okay?" Shizuo asked while his thumb made ovals from my temple to my cheekbone.

"I'm fine, I just don't know what the hell you're doing," I answered honestly. I knew that even if he made a sudden decision to harm me I could easily get out of the way or counter attack. I had been in worse situations. It wasn't like he was hurting me at all anyways. No, he was testing me. The subject matter of the test, however, was unknown to me. It had to do with me and with him. My gut feeling told me that it had to do with trust but I couldn't be sure. Maybe he wanted to see how red he could get my face to be without being overtly sexual. Maybe he lied about there being an experiment and was just messing with me.

There was a faint, wet sound as if he had licked his lips. His forehead was on mine again and warm air tickled my mouth. "Shizuo," I said without opening my eyes.

"Hmm?"

"Don't kiss me," his lips were too close to mine and I was not at all ready for that. It was one thing when it was the woman, a total stranger who was looking for a one night stand. Not a man that I had known a good part of my life and who used to be an enemy. "Please," I added on for good measure.

His large hand cupped my face, "I won't." His hand moved down to my neck, tracing the veins and muscular indentations. Then he set his hand beside my ribcage, "you don't think I'm going to hurt you at all," it was a statement, not a question.

"No," I replied, "Even if you wanted to I think I could handle it."

He chuckled lowly. "I could have killed you right then, you know that?"

"Yes, but I didn't think you would," he was completely right, of course. One twitch of his powerful hand and he could have crushed my windpipe. I would have died within a couple of minutes. I guess I trusted him more than I previously thought, despite all of the reasons I had not to. I should not have trusted him, but I did. Part of me wanted to. It was the same part of me that pushed back at my need for control, for power, for total isolation. It was the human part of me that craved attention. Affection. Real affection, not just sex and servitude and frightened whimpers of obedience. Here was a man who was strong and handsome, intelligent (in his own way), who was willingly touching me. Wanting to touch me without expecting any sort of reward or punishment. Shizuo was the genuine sort who wore his heart on his sleeve. Wild and passionate, he was my opposite. No, that was too cliché. He was simpler, more human, and more secure.

I hadn't been this confused since puberty.

I opened my eyes to see a smile on Shizuo's lips, "You trust me," he stated. "I wish I could kiss you, Izaya," he continued wistfully but made no move to fulfill his wish.

Pushing my hand against his chest, the cuts on my arms stung painfully with the slight effort. I was cautious not to make a face. Shizuo did not need to know what I had done to myself out of frustration. It was a poor reflection on me. He took the hint and got off of me, sitting on the edge of the bed once again. I sat up as well and laced my fingers together across my knees, "we need to wait," I told him reasonably. "I don't want to do anything that I'll regret," I scratched my head and met the blonde man's gentle eyes.

A loud thud could be heard from the other room. The front door. "Shizuo! Izaya! We are back and we bring sustenance!" Shinra called brightly. For once, it seemed that Shinra had prevented an awkward situation instead of instigating one. Thank god for his timely return.

Shizuo glanced at me briefly, "Food?" he asked simply. He did not wait for my response and started out of the room, probably feeling just as awkward as I was.

I did not exactly know at that time how I wanted to deal with Shizuo after that episode. It was so sudden and unexpected. Natural impulses were controlling him, as they usually seemed to. If he couldn't control his anger, what right did I have to think that he could control any of his other emotions? If I hadn't said anything, then he probably would have kissed me. We were adults, it was reasonable for him to think he could have gotten away with it. Had it been any other individual, well, a woman, then I would have probably of had sex right then and there if I was in the mood. But it was Shizuo, and Shizuo was not a woman. No matter how many similarities a woman and a eunuch have in common, it still did not change the fact that Shizuo had to shave his face and not his armpits. Was it weird that I noticed those things? Whatever. That was beside the point.

I cradled my head in my hands as soon as I knew that Shizuo was well outside of his bedroom. The whole thing with Shizuo was not even worth it, was it? I needed to push aside my foolish emotions and focus on what was really important: work and waking up Celty's head. Creating that war in Tokyo. What did Shizuo do to help me achieve the aforementioned goals? Nothing. He got in the way. A hindrance and a distraction, just as he always had been. However it was never in the way that caused me any sort of emotional distress. He made me weak.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. No. I was making excuses. I thought back to a conversation that I had with the woman only an hour or so ago. A conversation that put me at a loss for words because no one had spoken to me the way she did. Since she couldn't say a thing about the Australian bastard, she had changed the topic to Shizuo. And not so much Shizuo, but me.

_Sasha: You've seemed stressed lately. This Shizuo thing really bothers you, doesn't it?_

_Izaya: What was your first clue, oh wise one?_

_Sasha: Haha! Mind if I give you my opinion/advice? I think I might have been in your situation before, unless I'm just projecting myself on you. In that case you can make fun of me :p_

_Izaya: I'll make fun of you regardless. But shoot. I'm interested in whatever profound wisdom you may possess –sarcasm-. _

_Sasha: You're such a fuckass :p ilu. From what you've told me, you think that opening yourself up like this, I mean, really exposing your feelings puts you at risk somehow, correct? You'd rather bury them under your impressive intellect and submerge yourself in work and research and experiments._

_Sasha: Let me ask you a question though, does having emotions and feeling for someone make you weak? Does denying the fact that you have them or hiding from them make you strong?_

_Sasha: You know I don't bullshit, so listen when I say this. While you may know everything about just about everyone and every subject, you don't seem to know shit about your own wellbeing. You're destroying yourself slowly and what sickens me is that you're so disturbed by the fact that you're doing something that makes you happy._

_Sasha: Or is that not it? Are you disturbed by the fact that you're not hurting anything to gain this happiness? You're not scared of the other gangs or tarnishing your reputation, those are just fancy excuses. You're scared of getting hurt._

_Sasha: Hiding from your feelings doesn't make you strong. It makes you a coward. _

_Izaya: You're an idiot, you know that?_

_Sasha: Think on it. Please. Sorry I got frustrated._

My chest hurt, but I would not admit that her words possessed a grain of truth to them. I couldn't allow myself to dwell on it at the moment. That one word continuously echoed in my mind, reverberated off of skull walls, 'coward'. Needless to say, I did not continue the conversation with the woman. She was the last straw, the one that brought my nails to the thin skin on the underside of my forearms and tear it away. No matter how I tore at the skin at my arms, tugged at the one barrier that separated my body from the elements, I did not dare start to pick away at the wall built around my heart. My mind. I had put too much effort into locking them away to want to give up so easily.

I got off of the bed, being careful not to use my arms, and went to join the others in the kitchen.

XXX

The living room was dim with only the glow of the television and a yellow light that emanated from the kitchen. It was almost eleven o'clock and Shinra had put in a second movie. It seemed to be a night devoted to Edward Norton: first The Incredible Hulk and then Fight Club. Apparently the man had an affinity for characters with split personalities.

Shizuo had already seen the film and decided to go into his room for the first twenty or so minutes to finish unpacking. Shinra and Celty were cuddled on the couch. Her shoulders rested on his lap while he stroked her collarbone lovingly. She would hold her phone up to him every so often and he would smile and say something to her. I was mostly left out of this conversation but I did not really mind. I had grown accustomed to it. They had no intention of being rude, of course, they were probably just talking about something that would not interest me.

I shifted in the armchair, tucking my feet under my thighs. "Shinra, Celty," I addressed while the opening credits were still on screen.

Shinra's eyes flicked to mine and he gave me a stupid grin while Celty propped herself up on her elbows. "What's up?" the young doctor asked.

"Quick question, I ran into a dead end at work and given you're a doctor," I gestured to Shinra, "and Celty is, Celty, I figured one of you might have some insider knowledge that I can't access for one reason or another."

Celty held her phone out for me to see,_ "What's the question?"_ then she turned it to show Shinra what she had asked. I guess I was beating around the bush a little bit. I was tired and off in the head. Cut me some slack.

My eyes flicked back to the television screen when the narrator started talking. "Does the name 'Nairo' mean anything to either of you?" I asked. I was doubtful that they would know anything but sometimes one of them would surprise me. It was amazing how much information they picked up on just through their day jobs. Not to mention the variety of people they met.

Shinra shook his head, "Nope, what kind of name is that?" he said with a bit of a laugh.

Celty tapped at her phone, _"I know him. He's dangerous. Don't get involved. He won't play. If you get in his way, he will not hesitate to kill you." _She turned the phone so Shinra could be involved in the conversation as well. Briefly, I wondered once again if her head could talk. It would be so much more convenient to converse with multiple people if one member of the party was not a mute. _"I can't say much more before he interferes. I don't think he's human."_

I frowned. Of course it would have to be something supernatural. That's why there weren't any records on his existence, just like there was limited information regarding Saika and Celty. To most of the word, neither of them existed. They were the creatures of myths and legends. "Can we possibly discuss this more in my office tomorrow?"

Celty's chest heaved as if she were sighing. _"I'm afraid not. I advise you to avoid him."_

Shinra's brow knitted together and that smile that he always seemed to have left his lips. "I don't know who you're talking about, but if Celty says to stay out of this guy's business then I would probably listen to her. Especially if we're dealing with something supernatural like Saika."

Turning back to the television, I shrugged. The conversation was going to prove futile because Celty was not one to change her mind (or whatever one would call it in her case) about certain matters. If she did not want to divulge information then there had to be a good reason for it. Perhaps it was the same reason the woman would not give me any information about him either. There was something about him that was very dangerous, dangerous enough to dissuade two powerful women from even wanting to utter his name. I had to get to him somehow. I had to know what exactly he wanted from me. "Fine, I'm not going to push it then. I have enough on my plate," I told them without really meaning it.

They seemed to accept my answer and turned their attention back to the television. Edward Norton was sitting on the toilet and talking about Ikea. I was not a fan of Ikea, all of the stuff looked so cheap. I preferred to go to small private businesses and get all of my furniture custom made. A little more expensive, sure, but all of it was high quality. Quality was most important when it came to items that would be in one's life for a prolonged period of time, otherwise it would wear down quickly or possibly break. Then one would just end up spending even more money on replacements and repairs than buying something that was well made to begin with.

I sat and watched the film. The narrator was suffering from insomnia yet his doctor would not prescribe him any medicine. His boss overworked him more than he overworked himself. The man started to go to various support groups, starting out with testicular cancer. Shinra chuckled immaturely at the famous line "Bob had bitch tits" and Celty hit him. I envied the pair: they complemented each other well. Shinra deserved a woman like her and she probably needed a somewhat goofy guy in her hectic life. Shinra leaned over to kiss her collarbone. I looked away and watched as the narrator frequented other support groups for different types of cancers or fatal illnesses. I could almost sympathize with the narrator. Sleepless nights and the need for some sort of release. Release in the form of seeing others in agony while being the only one in total control. It helped to put things in perspective and the pain would slowly ebb away.

Then a woman came into the narrator's life and ruined everything for him. He saw her everywhere, intruding upon his one form of therapy. "If I had a tumor, I would name it Marla. Marla. That little scratch on the roof of your mouth that would heal if only you could stop tonguing it," he said. Yeah, if I had a tumor, I would name it Shizuo. Why did I keep talking about the movie? Nobody cares about that.

Speaking of Shizuo, he had been gone from the room for almost half an hour. I excused myself to go pester him. As much as I loved Fight Club, I was more interested in Shizuo. He was the only reason why I had agreed to waste my time doing something other than work, might as well make the most of it.

Making my way down the narrow hallway that led to the master bedroom, I noticed the light that crept out from under the closed door. Odd, why had he closed the door? It wasn't like he was doing anything scandalous while he was unpacking his room. Unless he was. Like masturbating. Though I honestly did not think he would do so with company around. It was just bad manners. Nonetheless, my knuckles tapped the wooden frame lightly.

"Come in," he responded immediately.

Turning the handle, I pushed open the door. Shizuo reclined on his bed, jotting something down in a notebook. The overhead light had been turned off and only the warm orange glow of his bedside lamp illuminated his room. It highlighted his golden hair and reflected off of the copper hues that specked his eyes. He had changed into black sweatpants but wore the same gray wife-beater. My breath almost caught at the sight of him. Damn lighting emphasized his features too well, from his strong jaw, smooth skin, high cheekbones, muscular arms, and not to mention his collarbone. Admittedly, I really liked collarbones and I had not really gotten to appreciate his before.

His eyes flicked up to me and he carefully closed the blue notebook, setting it aside with his pen. "You get bored of the movies?" he asked and sat up straight, moving his legs into a crisscross position.

I shrugged, "I've seen that one before. What were you doing just now," I gestured to the notebook with a slender finger. God, I was getting skinny. My joints seemed more prominent than usual. I would have to start drinking protein shakes again for calories again. Though they never really tasted very nice but it was better than allowing myself to become a twig because I was stressed out and not eating. Though I did manage to nibble at the food that Celty and Shinra had brought back. But it was only because I did not want anyone to suspect that there was a problem. Not eating in front of people usually brought up some unwanted questioning and I was never in the mood for that.

"Journal. My doctor wants me to monitor some things so I usually jot stuff down every day," he explained simply. So it was pretty much a medical diary. Interesting. That could prove to be pretty useful in learning more about the blonde man. It would be his thought and the matters of his body on paper, written from his perspective. Maybe he would have said a few things about me. I knew that I probably caused at least some of whatever problems he was having. Probably just stuff having to do with his knee, his freakish hormones that gave him super strength, emotional issues, and maybe some other delicious tidbits of knowledge. Or he could just be writing down his blood pressure or something. I was getting too excited over what he claimed to be a medical journal.

"Sounds like a diary to me, Shizzy," I teased.

He shrugged. "That too. It helps," he responded evenly.

My face fell, "That was… a really boring answer," seriously, I had just implied to a grown man that he was writing in a diary. Writing in a diary was an activity most commonly associated with overly hormonal teenage girls who complained about being fat and ugly and then cried over boys. I was disappointed to say the least. Surprised, but disappointed.

He chuckled lightly, "you know what they say, if you don't want to tempt the trolls then don't give them a response they can work with."

"Who says that? Your online self-help books?" I joined him on his bed, sitting across from him and mimicking his posture. "Oh wait, I forgot that you don't like to read," I had to take a jab at his intelligence. I kept too many of those comments pent up.

"I think not reading at all is better than reading pornographic gay fanfiction on your cellphone written by some Australian chick," he smirked.

"I—" I didn't know how to respond to that. Mental note: have the woman's fingers surgically removed by rusty instruments so she could never again send me pornographic text messages. I was never going to live that one down. Why did I not delete those messages? Why? "I hate you, you know that?" I settled, knowing Shizuo had won the argument. My pride, it was wounded. That was sarcasm. I don't know why I have always felt the need to point out my sarcasm.

Once his boyish giggling had subsided from my unexpected surrender, he looked at me with those beautiful but sharp brown eyes. "Listen, Izaya, I apologize for my behavior earlier," he scratched his jaw and averted his gaze, "I'm pretty embarrassed."

Well, I was not anticipating the conversation turning in that direction. "I do plenty of weird and embarrassing stuff to get information, I didn't really mind," there was no point in making him feel more awkward than needed. The ordeal was done and over with, he had found out what he needed to (which was, apparently, whether or not I really trusted him and according to his analysis I did. Though his methods were faulty, he was right about the fact that I did not think he wanted to kill me. He was wrong, however, if he thought that I could trust him completely. That would take a lot of time, probably more time than I have. Maybe a couple of centuries. Perhaps Shizuo and I could continue the trust building process into whatever afterlife was waiting, if one at all. But I don't want to get into such philosophical topics).

"I still can't get over the fact that we can just sit and talk now. It's so weird," he commented.

"I'm in the same boat. I'm still expecting to dodge heavy objects when I go out."

"Today while I was moving stuff in, I expected to get ambushed by some random gangsters that you had hired for one reason for another," Shizuo sympathized, looking back at me.

Perhaps Shizuo was right about letting go of the past. Let the water flow under the bridge, as my mother would say. It was awkward and uncomfortable to talk about. Perhaps, it did not even need to be discussed. At least, not at the moment. Maybe it was the time to move forward enough so looking back on the past wasn't so uncomfortable. If the past were a desert, Shizuo were at the edge of it, too traumatized by what we had gone through to even think about the heat and the sand. We had to find water, find the shade, find a resting place, and then climb up a mountain one slippery cliff at a time. Then, only when we were at the top of the mountain could we look over the desert without any malice and say "remember how much that sucked?" and then laugh over it.

The woman's words echoed in my mind. _You're so disturbed by the fact that you're doing something that makes you happy_, she had said. Did Shizuo make me happy? _Hiding from your feelings doesn't make you strong. It makes you a coward_, she had accused. I was hiding. She was completely right. I was terrified of getting hurt. That was why I was making so many excuses. I did not want anyone to get close enough to me that they could hurt me. I had always been at a safe distance, physically and emotionally. Now that someone was close, someone was close enough to reach out and touch my body and my heart (that was really cheesy), I was terrified. The barriers I had set up were crumbling and I was doing anything and everything I could to rebuild them. My frantic efforts had left me exhausted and frustrated. Dwelling on such matters was more of a hindrance than a help.

I couldn't focus without Shizuo in my life.

I couldn't focus with Shizuo in my life either.

I couldn't focus because of the temptation that came with him. I was denying myself of one of the basic human needs, the need that came after food, water, and shelter. The need for companionship. The need for someone to trust and to love. _Coward_. Shizuo could hurt me if he wanted to. Physical pain, I could handle. Broken bones and bruises were nothing. But the words and actions of an individual one cares about, those could leave permanent scars that would never fully heal. A broken bone would heal and a bruise would fade, but a memory could stay forever.

Such wounds terrified me. I treasure my mind, my intelligence, over my body. It was the only thing that anyone valued in me and if it were damaged in any way, the way it seemed to be whenever I thought of Shizuo, I was useless. Maybe it was time that I allowed myself to stop stressing over him, maybe it was time for me to succumb to my emotions, maybe it was time for me to let go and try something different.

Maybe it was time for a change.

"Shizuo," I began without really preparing what I was going to say. I was just going to go for it and hoped that my words did not betray me. "What happened…" I led off. God, I did not know what to say. The man had a way of rendering the ever charismatic Izaya Orihara utterly speechless. There was so much to say about everything but I could not put it into words. Scratch that whole notion of me speaking without planning. It just was not going to happen. Everything that I was feeling needed some time to process and sit and be analyzed.

I needed to do something though. I decided to change the way I was sitting, tucking my feet under me so I was on my knees. That did not help and was rather pointless.

There was that confused, lost puppy expression on his face again. Why did he have to look at me like that? He had no idea what sort of emotional turmoil I had to endure on account of him. "Yes?" he asked inquisitively.

I was done trying to restrain my emotions any further. It was driving me to madness. Madness that led me to tear up my arms and destroy my mirror and cancel all of my appointments and go to Shizuo's old apartment and seek him out in Ikebukuro and led me to the woman. All of my problems at the moment all stemmed from my denial of my emotions, my need to be stronger than everyone else. Where did that fucking get me? Gashes on my forearms and utter paranoia.

Reaching out and cupping his face in my hands, I watched his expression. Relaxed despite the warmth of his skin. His breathing changed, taking deeper breaths but his eyes never left mine. I tilted my face to the right and closed my eyes.

His face moved under my hands, closer to me. I could feel his breath on my lips. Clean and warm. He had brushed his teeth again, I noted. "Did you change your mind?" he inquired and his nose brushed against mine.

My heart pounded furiously. "What do you think?"

Shizuo brought his hand to my cheek, stroking my face before running his fingers through the hair on the back of my head, gently pulling me in even closer. "I swear to God, flea, if you bite me …" I could practically hear him smiling.

With just a mere tilt of my neck, Shizuo Heiwajima's lips were on mine. Touching so lightly that is was almost imperceptible. He was still, as if more surprised by the action than I was. Despite the slight shock I was experiencing that I had kissed him entirely of my own accord, I did not draw away. Moving one hand behind his head I pressed my lips into his fully, inhaling the sweet scent of his cologne as I did. I wanted to remember the feeling of his golden hair between my fingers and the warmth of his mouth. The pine scent of his cologne. The minty taste of his lips. The faint sound of his breathing over the dull rush of cars on the streets below.

Blood rushed to my face. I wanted to be closer to him. I hooked my arms around his neck carefully, wincing slightly as the skin around the gashes stretched with the movement. He clumsily tugged me closer, forcing me to take a step on my knees so I would not lose my balance. The kiss was chaste, warm, and pleasant. Innocent and childlike, almost like one's very first kiss when they are so unsure of what to do that they just keep it simple and try not to mess up.

It was my first kiss with a man. More importantly, it was my first kiss with Shizuo. It only lasted a few seconds. There was more feeling in those few seconds than in the entire night I had spent with the woman. It was more than appeasing those pesky hormones that seemed to occasionally dominate the male mind with primal desires. It was more than just mere sexual gratification. For once, I actually felt something. Something that made my stomach twist and turn itself into knots and make my chest feel tight, as if my entire being was going to burst with the desire to be with him, to touch him, to hear his voice, to kiss his lips, and tangle my boney fingers in his bleached blonde hair.

He pulled away and I opened my eyes. He stared back at me evenly. "I think I definitely like you," he confessed, stroking my hair.

Such a simple man, acting as if his feelings could be confirmed just from a kiss. I had no such concrete thoughts. My emotions were mixed and confused. All I knew was that I liked it and that I liked him. Shizuo. He allowed me to feel in a way that seemed entirely foreign to me, as if he was slowly figuring out the combination to the safe that concealed my heart. "I would have to say the same about you, Shizzy."

"Better than being pinned in an alleyway and me ripping off your clothes?" he teased.

I made a chomping motion at him, as if I was going to bite his nose. "Sasha wrote that, not me. Prick," I pecked his lips again quickly and then sat back so that his hands were no longer on me. "We should probably go back and finish the movie before Celty and Shinra get any ideas."

"I think we can have another two minutes," and with that, he kissed me again.

Yeah, they could wait a few more minutes.

**Author's rambling/groveling:**

**50,000 words and 70 pages of size 11-font on Microsoft word later, they finally kiss. **

**The next chapter is pretty intense. Stay tuned!**

**Reviews are appreciated, as always!**


	9. Authors Note Again

**Authors Note: Sorry about the long wait! **

**A lot of stuff has happened and the next chapter is pretty difficult to write because we finally get to go into Shizuo's point of view. So it's a biggie!**

**Also, due to personal issues and the nature of this story, this has gotten increasingly difficult to write because it makes me upset. I'm just kinda being a wimp though so I'll get over it. **

**Also I've been self-medicating with Homestuck. I have joined that fandom 8l**

**Here's something silly that I meant to put in the last chapter but never did. I literally have troves of conversations between Sasha and Izaya that we never see. **

_Sasha: AH HA! AH HA! I KNEW IT! DETAILS, IZAYA! YOU CAN'T TELL ME THIS WITHOUT GIVING ME THE DETAILS! _

_ Izaya: We kissed. What more do you want?_

_ Sasha: What was it like? WAS IT EVERYTHING SEXY THAT I PREDICTED IT WOULD BE?_

_ Izaya: No. _

_ Sasha: Okay, well this is how I think it went down. _

_ Izaya: Oh, please no. I said "please"! I still haven't lived down your last porno._

_ Sasha: You sneak away from Shinra and Celty and go to Shizuo's room. He's lying in bed in nothing but his sweatpants and you get a good look at that hot bod of his. Mmm, sexy, right? You lick your lips and stare at him as if he's made out of candy!_

_ Sasha: Suddenly! You can't contain yourself! YOU LUNGE ON HIM! YOU KISS THE FUCK OUT OF HIM! THEN YOU FUCK LIKE THE HORNY RABBITS YOU ARE! (You are on top, obviously)._

_ Sasha: And all of it was sexy. All of it. _

_ Sasha: Even the part where you swallow his love liquid. _

_ Izaya: I am deleting this immediately. _

_ Sasha: Aww, did I give you an insta-boner? :D_

_ Izaya: No, I think I just threw up in my mouth a little. _

_ Sasha: Too much semen?_

_ Izaya: GOOD LORD WOMAN STOP. _

_ Sasha: You love it, otherwise you wouldn't be talking to me :p_


End file.
